My uncle was a very successful attorney who had the big house, the boat, and recognition. He was gregarious, popular, and influential, later becoming a judge. He owned a farm, and, as we were growing up, we spent many weekends building fences, a corral, bush-hogging, feeding cattle, and running cows through the corral to pin them in the squeeze shoot for worming, medication, tagging, etc. Some of the best times of my life. I wanted to follow in his footsteps; so I studied law.
I filed civil lawsuits for clients, did a lot of small estate work (wills and probate), family law (divorce, child custody, and support), incorporating small businesses, and conducted mediations, which was serving as an impartial mediary to help parties resolve disputes. I tried my best to avoid criminal work.
Although I loved being an attorney, I didn’t like practising law. When mother passed, I decided life was too short, and I’d do something different — either become a financial professional, or a real-estate professional. I chose financial professional.
Financial professionals help individuals and families plan financial futures, invest, save for children’s college education, plan and save for retirement, develop income in retirement, and assist in trust and estate planning — helping families figure out the most effective and tax-efficient disposition of assets upon the death of one or both spouses. They also help clients with insurance products and annuities. Many times we help plan debt-repayment strategies or set up retirement plans. These activities take most of our time, but are only the tip of the iceberg.
I am surprised by the number of widows, widowers, and families I get to help after the death of a loved one. It’s become a ministry as well as a profession, and truly brings joy and contentment, even though it can be heartbreaking to those involved.
I wrote The Crumb Jar after waking several nights in succession with the idea. Each night, I woke with another idea to explore, and another chapter to add. By the time I started writing, I almost had the entire book written in my head. Once I started writing, there was no stopping until it was done.
The purpose of the “crumb jar” is a simple way for us to help the poor and needy. The book calls out both sides of the political aisle to do more.
Our church small group has a crumb jar. All of us put the “crumbs” of our blessings in a jar, a little at a time — a dime, quarter, dollar — let it accumulate, and give to the poor and needy. Small generosity building over time. Virtually everyone occasionally has some crumbs to give.
Yes, it’s provocative, because in America, both the Left and the Right, Christian and non-Christian, overlook the poor and needy to some degree. The Left generally thinks it does enough to help the poor and needy because of government mandates and taxes. The Right generally believes it is forced, through government mandates, to support too many programmes, and that taxes are too high; so it doesn’t do more. To be fair, though, both sides give generously to multiple causes.
Our government takes on so much of the burden, but people fall through the cracks. Sometimes, government benefits aren’t enough. Sometimes, the one-size-fits-all rules of government exclude or limit the relief a person needs. Often, the matter has nothing to do with government benefits, and people just need help.
These are the people I seek to help. The guy pushing the grocery cart down the street. The homeless. The family where a major wage-earner is now sick and on disability. People undergoing debilitating cancer treatments. A widow just scraping by on social security.
I’ve been thinking about the growing inequality question a lot. A lot. I’ll start with this: I’ve never been the smartest person in the room, but, with God’s blessings, I’ve done well. I’m educated, and I hang out with people a lot smarter than myself.
My wife and I worked 60, 70, 80 hours a week for years as young adults. We’ve taken risk all our adult lives. We bought, rented, and sold real estate. We invested in stocks, bonds, and mutual funds. We’ve been self-employed, and both my wife, Lisa, and I have owned and operated successful businesses.
Failure is my next point. I’m not afraid to fail. Lisa, well, not so much. Failing’s an integral part of success. Very few succeed without having first failed. Most are too afraid of failure. Roger Federer said he won almost 80 per cent of the tennis matches he played. But . . . he only won 54 per cent of the points. He failed on 46 per cent of the points he played. It’s OK to fail.
We save. We keep a cash reserve. I contribute the maximum allowed by the government to a retirement plan. We try to drive our cars for ten years. Reserves allow you to take advantage of good opportunities, or survive emergencies. We keep credit card and revolving credit debt either on extremely low interest or paid completely every month. We tithe. We give to others. We give to the poor and needy. We give back to God.
If I invest a million dollars at three per cent, I’ve made $30,000. If another invested $100,000 at ten per cent, he made $10,000.00. This person made only one third of the amount of money I made, even though that person made, on a percentage basis, 67 per cent more. It takes money to make money, and the more you have, the more you make. The rich will almost always get richer, and with less risk.
The poor will always be with us. Too many people aren’t willing to do what it takes to succeed. I wish people would just be honest about that. Higher benefits than the job market pays can reduce the incentive to work. Growing disparities are a fact of life: neither good nor bad. It’s not my job to make your life better; that’s your job.
It is my job to help those that need help, in addition to the taxes I pay. To whom much has been given, much is required. I do not take this lightly.
I grew up in a solidly middle-class home. My father owned a car dealership, and later bought a lumberyard when I was about ten. Mother was a homemaker, and later worked as a church secretary. They were incredible parents. Dad was home every night. We were in church every Sunday. There were four of us kids, but my parents made just about every ball game or practice. Dad even coached my kid league baseball team. They sacrificed for us. Starting in 7th grade, I worked summers at dad’s lumberyard.
I remember asking my dad if we were rich. He said “yes.” “How much money do we have?” I asked. He said: “The amount of money doesn’t matter. We’re rich because we have each other. We’re healthy and have a house, a car, and a job. That makes us the richest people in the world.” I never forgot.
Today, Lisa and I are empty-nesters. I work, and she’s finally able to do what she wants. Again, we’re blessed. We love our church, our small group, and friends. I love the people I work with. We have two incredible kids, both self-supporting, married to incredible people with incredible families. And we have Annabelle, our granddaughter. She is amazing. We look forward to seeing her every chance we get.
I accepted Christ when I was 13, at church youth camp. I remember as if it happened yesterday. Immediate peace.
Child abuse and those who sexually molest children make me angry. Men who are abusive to women. Women who enable their abusers. The failure to try.
I love the memories of my mother’s voice, and my granddaughter’s voice saying, “Hey, Pops. . .”
Christ gives me hope for the future.
Praise and thanks, others, and most of all, I pray for forgiveness.
I would go back to my mother’s office at First Baptist Church in Texarkana and talk with her, like I did as a youth. I learned so much about others, and giving to others, from her. She grew up very, very poor, and loving others was her gift.
Curtis Hinshaw was talking to Terence Handley MacMath.
The Crumb Jar is published by WestBow Press at £8.95 (Church Times Bookshop £8.05); 978-1-66426-518-9.