ONE OF MY FAVORITE end-of-the-year rituals is watching Turner Classic Movies’ annual memorial to those in the film business who have died during the past year. Each year, I’m reminded of people who have entertained and often strongly influenced me. It’s four bittersweet minutes of smiling, crying and reliving memories. Movies, and especially holiday movies, have been as important in inspiring and teaching me as any scripture I’ve ever read and any sermon I’ve heard or given. Two actors who died in 2022 were in two of my favorite movies. Virginia Patton, the last living adult actress from the best movie of all time, It’s a Wonderful Life, died in August. She played George Bailey’s sister-in-law, Ruth Dakin Bailey. James Caan, who played Buddy’s biological father Walter in Elf, died in July. Like most characters in holiday classics, they taught us lessons about love, selfishness, generosity and greed—lessons that can be helpful in all parts of our lives, including our financial lives. Caan played the stereotypical self-centered businessman who had lost the spirit of the season. Patton had a small role in the movie with a handful of lines. She lets George know that the main reason his brother Harry married her was to go into plastics, where he could make lots of money. He does; George doesn’t. Most of us didn’t make a lot of money this year if we were invested in the stock and bond markets. (I’m not sure about those in plastics.) I find the last few weeks of the year are a time of complex emotions and to-do lists. A time to celebrate, to remember, to mourn, to plan, to share and reflect on what’s come and what we hope will come next. No matter which holidays or movies we embrace. My contemplation this year, after watching TCM Remembers, made me think of some of my favorite holiday movie quotes. Maybe not surprisingly, they offer as much wisdom for investing as they do for living. “Remember, no man is a failure who has friends,” says Clarence, George’s guardian angel in It’s a Wonderful Life. The first time I heard this line I broke into tears. I saw the movie in my early 20s when I was early in recovery from the financial and spiritual heartbreak caused by my compulsive gambling. Clarence gives George a new lease on life, reminding him that his friends made him far richer than those with much more money. It’s a lesson we all need to be reminded of. Failure comes often and easily in life, in work and in investing. If they’re the main things we focus on, life will look bleak. If we focus on love and friendship, spending as much time cultivating those as we do our portfolio, we’re always ahead at the end of the year. “Christmas isn’t just a day, it’s a frame of mind,” offers Kris Kringle in Miracle on 34th Street. “And what happened, then? The Grinch’s heart grew three sizes that day and the true meaning of Christmas came through,” the narrator tells us in How the Grinch Stole Christmas. No list of holiday quotes connected with finances would be complete without including Santa and the Grinch. Every year, financial pundits wonder if we will get a Santa rally or a Grinch “rally.” Of course, Santa always carries the Christmas spirit, while for the Grinch it takes some time. Every Christmas movie on my list of favorites has the same message shared in different ways—savor the spirit of the season and give it away all year. Of course, not everyone celebrates Christmas, Santa or the Grinch. But the frame of mind and true meaning they teach transcend religions, movie scripts and investing advice. Think of others and be generous. Be grateful for what we have and practice kindness every chance we get. Look at the world with wonder, anticipation and joy. Help someone whenever we can and love even more. Aren’t those the real reasons we spend our time and money working, making money and learning how to invest? [xyz-ihs snippet="Holiday-Donate"] The last two quotes come from Charles Dickens’s classic A Christmas Carol. No matter if you prefer the 1938 version with Reginald Owen, 1951’s version with Alistair Sims (my personal favorite) or 1988’s Scrooged with Bill Murray, Dickens’ story reminds us that all work—and no play or compassion—aren’t good for anyone. “I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach!” declares Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol. Scrooge is talking about his transformation after being visited by the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future. But it’s hard for me not to read those lines and think of our financial lives. Too often, when we make investing decisions, we choose to look at past results, go after the current hottest fads or speculate wildly about what will happen in the future. At least I have from time to time. Scrooge reminds us to keep learning, to remember the lessons we have learned and to be open to learning new ones. And doing all of it while being grounded in the values we hold dear. This year, the lessons of old haven’t always held true. (If stocks are down, aren’t bonds supposed to be up?) Still, if we hold on to what matters most in our lives, it can help us to remember what matters most in investing as well—hew to the long view, with some humility and caring thrown in. “God bless us, everyone.” I leave you with these words, which come from Tiny Tim. No matter how large our net worth, what religion we do or don’t practice, or which god we do or don’t believe in, may we remember our blessings and shower them on others. I’ll see you at the movies. Don Southworth is a semi-retired minister, consultant and tax preparer living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. He recently completed his Certified Financial Planner education. Don is passionate about the intersection between spirituality and money, and he encourages people to follow their callings wherever they lead. Follow Don on Twitter @Calltrepreneur and check out his earlier articles. [xyz-ihs snippet="Donate"]

IT WAS A WARM MAY night in 1977. I was 19 years old and the manager of a fast-food restaurant. I was also in the middle of a five-year addiction to compulsive gambling that would eventually lead me to the brink of spiritual and financial bankruptcy. It was about 10:30 p.m. and I was cleaning up the store after closing. I was planning on going to the racetrack to catch the last race when I was done. I was emptying the soft drink system when I turned around and saw two men in ski masks pointing guns at me. I burst out laughing—I thought it was a joke. When they ordered me to get down on the floor and crawl over to the safe, I knew they were deadly serious. One of the men ordered me to empty the safe and put all the money in his bag. As I nervously loaded hundreds of dollars in coins into the bag, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that there was a paper cup sitting on my desk stuffed with about $400 in cash. The thought popped into my head that maybe he wouldn’t notice it and I could take it with me to the racetrack that night. After I cleaned out the safe, he asked me, “Is that all the money?” As I tried not to look at the money on the desk, I replied, “Yeah, that’s all the money.” He put the gun to my head and said again, “Is that all the money?” I stuttered, “Uh, there’s some more up there on the desk.” Maybe his gun wasn’t loaded or maybe he was too nervous to realize that I had tried to pull something over on him. Instead of shooting me, he and his partner tied me up and ran off into the night. I didn’t make it to the racetrack that night. I didn’t realize until many years later, after I quit gambling, how close I came to losing my life over my perverted sense of money. Hopefully, you haven’t faced such an experience when it comes to choosing your money or your life. But I know that all of us make choices about our money and our life. These choices may not be forced upon us by the cold steel of a gun, but they are forced on us every day. Our choices range from deciding how to live on what we make to deciding how much time to spend earning a living versus being with family and friends. Some of us struggle with deciding how long to stay at jobs that provide us with economic security but leave us feeling empty and unfulfilled. Some of us are simply looking for a job—any job. Many of us wonder how we can help those less fortunate as we struggle with deciding how much is enough. Whatever choices we are faced with, the question of our money or our life is never far away. [xyz-ihs snippet="Mobile-Subscribe"] Most of the financial advice we read focuses on how to manage our money and how to do our best to have enough. This is important and I would be in a much less privileged place if I hadn’t availed myself of such advice. But too often, there’s silence from the experts, and among ourselves and those closest to us, about the grip money might have on our psyches and souls. Jacob Needleman writes in his book Money and the Meaning of Life, “The problem of money dogs our steps throughout the whole of our lives…. And it haunts our spiritual search as well.” So it does. Needleman believes that exploring and healing our relationship with money provides us our greatest opportunity for learning how to live a rich and satisfying life. I agree with him. But how do we do that? I’ve begun to understand that, above all else, money is a story—a myth—that I’ve learned from others and continue to create myself. Reflecting on our stories about money is an important step in building a peaceful relationship with money. What lessons did we learn as children about money? Are those lessons relevant for how we wish to live today? These are questions we would all be wise to reflect on—hopefully with others. My story was greatly influenced by being raised in a single-parent household where money was sometimes scarce. My mom was so busy working to keep our family together and worrying if we had enough money that she didn’t have time for the spiritual side of life. I’ve struggled with creating a story of money that balances security with the spiritual, with having enough for my family and to share with others. Like most myths, there’s both truth and fantasy in our money stories. One of our challenges is to discover which parts of our money stories no longer work for us. When I became a minister, I learned that money—perhaps not too surprisingly—has its roots in religion. The word “money” is named after the Roman Goddess of Warning, Juno Moneta, whose temple housed the very first mint. What a wonderful metaphor for money, the fact that it’s named after the Goddess of Warning and the first mint. Perhaps, in addition to “In God We Trust,” every dollar bill should come with the phrase, “Warning: This Can Be Dangerous to Your Spiritual Well-Being”. All the world’s religions share stories and wisdom about money. But some of these stories and this wisdom force us into a false dualism that chooses the material or the spiritual. Knowingly or not, financial advisors and experts often do the same. This can force us to choose our money or our life. My 19-year-old self couldn’t have imagined the life that would unfold in front of him: overcoming addiction. Coping with financial and emotional bankruptcy. Learning how to savor life and money while endeavoring to help others do the same. We shouldn’t wait for a gun to be pointed at us—or for hard times—to reflect on the role we want money to have in our material and spiritual life. Instead, we should think about it now—and strive to choose both our money and our life. Don Southworth is a semi-retired minister, consultant and tax preparer living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. He recently completed his Certified Financial Planner education. Don is passionate about the intersection between spirituality and money, and he encourages people to follow their callings wherever they lead. Follow Don on Twitter @Calltrepreneur and check out his earlier articles. [xyz-ihs snippet="Donate"]

MY MOM AND DAD split up when I was seven years old. Money was an issue for the rest of my childhood. Mom was rarely able to work fulltime and, according to her, child support and alimony were never enough. When I started working a newspaper stand at age 12, I was expected to give 25% of my daily take for rent. Mom also demanded that I save at least 10%. Depending on the headlines, I would make between $1.50 and $3 each day. Each night, I would drop a few coins in my savings cup. I never had an allowance, but I was a high-roller when it came to hanging out with my middle-school friends over cokes and candy bars (which might mean I wasn’t too good at saving). To my mom’s chagrin, I didn’t share her passion for saving money as I grew into young adulthood. Between a growing gambling addiction and a penchant for using credit cards to finance everyday life, my financial life was in ruins by my early 20s. Thankfully, I got help for the gambling addiction and fell in love with a woman who took financial management and budgeting seriously. On our second date, I went to her apartment to pick up her and her three-year-old son to see the latest Disney movie. She invited me into the kitchen for a drink of water. On the refrigerator was her biweekly budget for all the world, and maybe especially me, to see. It wasn’t a rounded-up budget, either. It was a “$78 for food, $11 for telephone, $35 for gas and $43 for savings” type of budget. It scared me so much I almost didn’t ask her out again. I have now been married to her for more than 35 years. While we eventually overcame our money differences, the early years were sometimes challenging. I could, and probably will, one day write about how a budgeter and a non-budgeter came together. But I want to focus on something different: the magic numbers of financial management. Or what I sometimes have preached and taught: how to enjoy both financial peace and prosperity. I don’t remember many financial instructions from my first 25 years of life—except to save 10% of anything I made. My wife and I were raised by parents who survived the Great Depression. They demanded, cajoled and begged us to save at least 10% and promised that, if we did, our financial future would be secure. My wife heeded their advice. Me not so much. As I got older and started caring about financial matters, I learned there were a lot of mathematicians involved in giving financial advice. Every year, the perfect percentage of stocks and bonds in your asset allocation, as well as the right sum to take out of your paycheck to put in a 401(k) and to put toward an emergency fund and to cover living expenses, seemed to change. If you only save 10% today, you might be in big trouble in 20 to 30 years, or so some said. Recently, I read an article that said the magic numbers now are 50-30-20. Meaning what? Spend 50% on needs, 30% on wants and 20% on your financial goals. I didn’t grow up near any religion. When my wife and I began attending a “trans-denominational” church in the mid-1980s, the message was a little Western, a little Eastern and a little new age. The community was what we enjoyed most. Every Sunday, a lay person or couple shared something about giving and generosity. One couple, who was our age, talked about tithing—giving away 10% of their income—and how it changed their lives. My wife and I were intrigued. Who doesn’t like giving money away? I started researching and my wife started budgeting. I was convinced there was something “magical” in the 10% number, plus it was easy to figure out. [xyz-ihs snippet="Mobile-Subscribe"] We decided to start giving away 10% of our income to God and the good. We looked at our budget and added 10% to give away—after we paid taxes, the mortgage, food and childcare. It was a small number, but it was 10% of something. Each year, we gained the courage to bump up the number. Finally, one year, I suggested to my wife or she suggested to me—we don’t agree on this one—that we go for it and give away 10% of our income before deducting taxes and everything else. We built our budget to include 10% tithing, 80% living expenses and 10% savings. It became easier and easier to do. But when I left the corporate world to attend seminary, we had a decision to make. We couldn’t do 10-80-10 (tithe, spend, save) on our limited income. My wife and I looked at our budget and decided 10% tithing was more important than 10% saving. For four years, we saved nothing but continued to tithe. We survived financially and we became convinced the right formula for us was to give away 10% first and figure out the savings later. We never told our parents, but it worked out and continues to do so. We have now tithed for more than 30 years. I tell people it’s the greatest spiritual practice and leap of faith I’ve ever taken. Giving away 10% of anything we earn to people and organizations that may need it more than we do, and are doing something good for the world, is a constant reminder that we have enough—even when we’re afraid that we don’t. I would never have quit my job or gone to seminary if we hadn’t started doing this. It’s hard to explain the sense of joy, peace and faith I've experienced from trusting there’s enough to share with others. Giving away 10% of one’s earnings seems impossible to some. It sure did to us. But in working with individuals and organizations over the years, I’ve seen the power and delight that comes when people learn how to do it. I have never met an ex-tither. I only meet people who want to learn how to be able to take care of all their wants and needs, and to give to others as well. Although I joke that I probably lost credibility in recommending tithing as a core financial practice when I became a minister, the truth is I was a tithing sales manager, tithing training manager and tithing unemployed seminarian long before I was a minister. Financial peace of mind without financial security is difficult and perhaps dangerous. Financial security without peace of mind is a recipe for greed and lusting for more. The 10-80-10 guideline has provided us both financial peace of mind and relative prosperity. From my experience, it’s the closest you can get to a 100% financial guarantee—if your goal is both peace and prosperity. Don Southworth is a semi-retired minister, consultant and tax preparer living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. He recently completed his Certified Financial Planner education. Don is passionate about the intersection between spirituality and money, and he encourages people to follow their callings wherever they lead. Don's previous articles were Answering the Call and Twin Certainties. Follow him on Twitter @Calltrepreneur. [xyz-ihs snippet="Donate"]

“A YEAR TO LIVE.” That’s the name of a class I’ve been teaching on and off for the past 20 years. My hope: Participants will gain more understanding, acceptance and peace about one of life’s few guarantees—death. This year’s class members have a little over five months left to live. Every group is a little different. Some people resist the practicalities of preparing for death: putting things in writing, making medical and funeral arrangements, and divvying up their possessions. Others struggle with the spiritual and emotional preparations, such as making amends, letting go of control and telling those close to them how much they’ve meant. Last month’s homework included visiting a local cemetery to reflect on how we’re doing. Less than half of this year’s class made time for the cemetery visit. Those who did reported little impact, saying that—since they plan on being cremated—the cemetery didn’t mean much to them. I visited our local historical cemetery for the first time. I’ve loved cemeteries for as long as I can remember. I make a point of visiting them whenever I can. They’re one of the few public places where we acknowledge death. Normally, I start by finding famous people’s plots, which are often a pilgrimage site. But this time, I couldn’t find the famous politicians’ or national championship coach’s resting places. I decided to find a shady spot, sit on a bench dedicated in memory to a loved one, and meditate. I was surrounded by the graves of Edward who died in 2017 at the age of 86, Nancy who died in 2013 at 77, and Titus Elijah who died at seven. Ken was born in 1942 and Jacqueline was born in 1947. No dates of death yet. I was reminded, once again, that the rich and famous—like the rest of us—all end up in the same place. Some of us will have fresh flowers placed next to us once a year, some will have plastic year-round, and some will be strewn in a forest, an ocean or amongst the stars for eternity. I also thought about how much time and energy we spend making sure that our portfolios are just right, or that we have the best guaranteed rates on our annuities and certificates of deposit (CDs). [xyz-ihs snippet="Mobile-Subscribe"] Planning and preparing for our financial future, and ensuring we have as much security as we can for ourselves and our loved ones, is a good thing. But so too is planning for, preparing for and, dare I say, embracing the one ultimate guarantee that comes with life—our death. We didn’t have much to do with how we came into this world. But we have a lot to do with how well we leave it—and how well we say goodbye to others. If you haven’t visited a cemetery lately, I encourage you to do so. Fall is a lovely time to be outside and contemplate where we’re headed and will end up one day. Imagine the lives of those around you and think about what you have left to do before you say your last goodbyes. Maybe you have wills and medical directives to complete. Maybe you have some things to check off your ultimate to-do list. Maybe you have amends to make to yourself and to others. Spending a day remembering what ultimately awaits all of us has a way of clarifying our priorities and providing a sense of urgency for what we know we need to do. Nobody can really predict where interest rates are going, or how much income our next CD ladder or dividend fund will produce. But we do our best to learn and study, so we achieve the best that we can get. By contrast, everybody can predict where our life’s journey will end. Hopefully, we can all do our best to learn and study, so we get there with as much peace and preparation as possible. Don Southworth is a semi-retired minister, consultant and tax preparer living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. He recently completed his Certified Financial Planner education. Don is passionate about the intersection between spirituality and money, and he encourages people to follow their callings wherever they lead. Follow Don on Twitter @Calltrepreneur and check out his earlier articles. [xyz-ihs snippet="Donate"]

WHEN I STARTED MY sales and marketing career, one of the first mantras I learned was, “You have to spend money to make money.” Salespeople like me would always be asking the company to spend more—on commissions, product development and support. The bean counters, as we called them, would always respond by telling us how tight the budget was and how we needed to cut expenses. Especially those expenses they didn’t think we needed, such as business travel and client lunches. When my roles changed over the years and I became responsible for the operations side of organizations, I came to appreciate more fully the plusses and minuses of spending money to make money. While I never overran an organizational budget in the three decades that I was responsible for them, I’ve also never fully left my sales self behind. When I led nonprofits, I often found myself trying to convince others that, to make money, we needed to spend money—on fundraising. But you don’t always have to spend money to make money. In fact, when investing, just the opposite is usually true. As mutual fund and exchange-traded fund expenses have plummeted, performance has improved. In investing, you get what you don’t pay for. What about spending money for expert advice on taxes, retirement planning and estate planning? That may indeed lead to more money—but not always. My computer knows that I’m interested in retirement and finances. I’m reminded of that because of the many brokerage firm, investment and get-rich-quick advertisements I see every day. These organizations clearly believe they need to spend money to make money—for themselves, not me—and, given the size of some of these organizations, they’re right. But before I click on these advertisements, I try to remember another famous mantra: A fool and his money are soon parted.

I'VE BEEN ENGAGING IN the same end-of-the-year ritual for decades. Right after Christmas, I take a day or two—preferably away from home—to reflect, pray, meditate and write in my journal about the past year and the year that lies ahead. It’s a time for me to think about what I’ve done, what I haven’t done and what I hope to do in the new year. In this review, I include my financial, spiritual, emotional and physical lives. I reset my portfolio allocation, take an inventory of my assets—financial and otherwise—and decide what I want to focus on over the next year. At the end of 2022, I chose to go to the beach for a night and sit by the ocean as I did this. I thought about where I was at the beginning of 2022 and what had changed. I thought about three colleagues who were alive in December 2021. One was planning on retiring in June. She fell from a ladder as she came down from her attic, broke her neck and died in February. Another had retired in June 2021. He was a fit runner. He dropped dead of a heart attack this past July. Another gem of a man retired last summer at age 71. He was diagnosed with a very aggressive cancer one month later and died in October. Life can change in a heartbeat. All the financial and family plans we’ve made, and all the dreams we hope to realize one day, don’t come true because one day never comes. Thus is the reality of life and death—a reality we ignore or deny at our own peril, whether it’s our finances or any other aspect of our life. This realization is easy to intellectualize but sometimes hard to internalize, as I was reminded the week after New Year’s Day. At the end of 2022, I registered for Medicare because I turn age 65 in March. I had already helped my wife do so in October without any problem—which is why I was a little peeved when I received a letter from the Social Security Administration on Jan. 2 saying it couldn’t process my application until it had an original copy of my birth certificate. I huffed and puffed, and went off to look for it. [xyz-ihs snippet="Mobile-Subscribe"] I didn’t find it with the birth certificates for the rest of the family, so I checked to see if it was in my adoption file. I was adopted at birth and began searching for my biological roots—with limited success—after my son was born 35 years ago. Sure enough, my birth certificate was in my adoption file. That led me to check something on the internet. I’ll spare you all the details. But, to my surprise, I found the name and location of my biological sister and found pictures of my biological mother, whom I never met. I knew my mom was dead, but I didn’t know my sister was alive or where she lived. I do now. My heartbeat didn’t stop, but it definitely started pounding a lot harder and maybe missed a beat or two. My sister and I have since talked on the phone, and I hope one day that we'll meet. My life was changed forevermore when I saw that picture of my mom and sister—the first such picture I’d ever seen. Almost all of the spiritual work I have done in my life points back to one truth: Stay in the moment and savor each breath. Or follow the words attributed by some to James Dean: “Dream as if you’ll live forever. Live as if you’ll die today.” That’s good counsel for all of us, especially those of us who are in the financial thinking and planning business. Because it can all change in a heartbeat. Don Southworth is a semi-retired minister, consultant and tax preparer living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. He recently completed his Certified Financial Planner education. Don is passionate about the intersection between spirituality and money, and he encourages people to follow their callings wherever they lead. Follow Don on Twitter @Calltrepreneur and check out his earlier articles. [xyz-ihs snippet="Donate"]