Where Did All the Money Go?

I just received the October statement for our investment, brokerage and retirement accounts, and for the second consecutive month it's taken a serious nose dive. Not the direction I like to see my savings go. We live well within our means, contribute the maximum allowable amount to our SEP plans (the self-employed equivalent of a 401k), and make monthly automatic payments to my investment savings. And in the days since the current financial meltdown began, I've lost a LOT of money.

I don't like to talk about my finances. It's something I keep pretty personal. So I won't get too specific. But let's just say, it will take me three to four years of working and contributing to my investments as I have in the past to make up for the losses I have experienced in the last two months. And that's only if the market recovers from its tailspin very soon.

So, like many in America, I've been asking, "Where did all the money go?" If my money was there in August, who has it now?

Then I read this article titled "Where did all the money go?" and I finally grasped a very important lesson in finances. In fact, you could call it a rude awakening.

In the article, Robert Shiller, an economist at Yale explains that the price of a stock has never been the same thing as money -- it's simply the "best guess" of what the stock is worth.

"It's in people's minds," Shiller says. "We're just recording a measure of what people think the stock market is worth. What the people who are willing to trade today -- who are very, very few people -- are actually trading at. So we're just extrapolating that and thinking, well, maybe that's what everyone thinks it's worth."

In other words, I took my money -- real, hard, hard-earned money -- and bought something that I (and many others) thought was worth something, at the price we/they believed that something was worth at the time. Only now, that something I bought isn't worth what I paid for it.

It's as if I bought a high-priced house in a neighborhood that then went bad and the value of that house declined. I can wait it out and see if the neighborhood improves, something that may or may not happen in my lifetime. Or I can cut my losses and get out now -- before the neighborhood gets any worse and the value of my house plummets even further.

But the lesson I've learned, the rude awakening I've experienced, is more than a lesson in economics.

I'm learning that nothing really has changed. Just my value on paper. Just the vision I had of retiring three or four years earlier than I likely will. Just the false feeling of security I got with each monthly statement.

But nothing else has changed really. Not who I am. Not how people see me. Not who my friends are or the way my family feels toward me.

So what will I do differently? I won't stop saving or investing -- just maybe invest in safer, less risky options. And I may invest less and live more. Instead of investing in the future -- my future -- perhaps I will invest more in the present -- and in others.

Reminder to self:

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." -- Matthew 6:18-21

One of These Things is Not Like the Others

It was different this time, wasn't it? The day after the election, the day after the U.S. elected our first African-American President. That day was different than any other day after the election had ever been. Did you notice? Did you look at black people differently that day? Did they seem different to you?

I didn't vote for Obama, so I can't take credit for this historic event. I voted for McCain, for experience, for certainty, for a party whose promise of limited government involvement, trickle-down economics and pro-life leanings appeal to me. But imagine if McCain had won.

That day after the election would have felt no different than the day before. Little would have changed. And my vote would have been a vote for the status quo -- for better or worse.

And it wouldn't have been any different.

But it is different now. A pivotal moment in the trajectory of this country has occurred. A man of color has been elected to the highest office in the greatest nation on Earth.

I admit to being a cynic, to not believing his message of hope. Now that Obama is President, I will pray for him, for his guidance, for his wisdom, for his protection. I will pray that his promises were not empty, that he will be able to bring about the positive change he pledged. I pray that he will prove me wrong. And that our nation will be different -- and better.

Words: A Rather Random Brain Dump

As far back as he could remember, all he had ever wanted was to be normal. He wasn't even really sure what normal was exactly, but it was always held in high regard by his mother. The life lessons she taught were subtle, but lasting in their impact: You don't want to be poor. But being too wealthy is something to disdain. Vanity is, well, vain. But stand up straight, point your toes in when you walk, and for heaven's sake, don't pick your nose in public. Don't stand out. But don't be common. Excel. But don't be haughty. God's grace has washed you of your sins, but don't get too comfortable.

Today I awoke from a coma. Not a real coma, but a fog that has lasted some 30 years or more.

"Live your life for something bigger than yourself."

What have I been living for? Normalcy? Some elusive status quo?

"In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God."

Words are powerful. Words have the power to heal, the power to inspire, the power to hurt, the power to destroy.

We're constantly sowing words like seeds. Some will fall on fertile soil, some on rocky soil. Some will be choked out by thorns and weeds. Some will be eaten by birds. Some will take root and grow.

Funny how I can remember some words that were spoken to me long, long ago. "Sometimes you have to act your way into a better way of thinking," a wise woman told me at a pivotal point in my life. "Don't stand like that, you look like a queer," an older neighborhood boy told me. (Ironically, his father would later leave his mother for a man.) "My dad says your mother looks like a sack of potatoes," said a kid who looked like he should have worn that sack over his head.

What words am I sowing? I need to think before I speak.