between poverty and riches.

I recently started working through a Bible study by Elizabeth George on the book of Esther. Among the first lesson's verses was Proverbs 30:8-9,

⁸ Keep falsehood and lies far from me;
give me neither poverty nor riches,
but give me only my daily bread.

⁹ Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you
and say, 'Who is the LORD ?'
Or I may become poor and steal,
and so dishonor the name of my God.

I think it's safe to assume that most people aren't praying to be in poverty.

There are some out there who intentionally live a simplistic lifestyle devoid of many of the materialistic things the rest of us are clamoring to consume, own, or experience.

A lot of us, somewhere inside ourselves -whether we admit it aloud or not- would welcome riches without much of a second glance. It's easy when you are without riches to watch an episode of MTV's Cribs and think, Oh, if I had the money, I would never buy 6 luxury cars just because I could. Or have ice sculptures of myself set up in my living room on a weekly basis... just because I could. We'd be grateful and responsible with our riches, right?

But how many of us, like the psalmist, beseech God not to bless us with riches?

Interestingly enough, as I pondered these verses and their meaning, it dawned on me that, well, my family falls into that area between poverty and riches and, well, it's not a bad place to be. There are people dying of starvation in the world every single day (every single hour!), but we can afford to stop by Sonic on the way home from grocery shopping. There are people living on the streets here in America.... wealthy, busting-at-the-seams America. The most recent issue of People magazine spotlights some of the struggling homeless people in the United States at the moment. There were middle-aged people and young people with babies. Foster kids who had celebrated their 19th birthdays -and consequent emancipation from the foster care system- by being shown the door towards the nearest shelter.

When I was 19, I was about to enter the Air Force. I'd had my own bedroom my entire life, a computer in the house for as long as I can remember, and never experienced a tense, awkward moment at the concept that maybe my parents wouldn't be able to afford that big senior trip our class had committed to.

I've never gone without a meal in my entire life. And here I am at 24, with a house, a refrigerator packed with food, and children safe and sound in bedrooms that are completely furnished and contain full dressers.

This area between poverty and riches? It's immaculate. Blessed. It's as rich as I ever need it to be.