Breaking Free of Suburbia's Stranglehold

Jennifer McNelley: No Tears

McNelley knew she needed to change her life. Why else would she be crying all the time?

"I just can't wait anymore," she said. "I need to take a leap of faith and say, 'Screw it all,' and do what I have to do."

When her church, CrossCurrent Ministries, did the "Death by Suburb" series this year, she recognized herself in it, knowing she, too, was slowly drowning in the "toxins" of the suburbs -- the quest for more, the perfectly scheduled diagrams of days.

Her pastor, Chris Eads, was inspired to do the series after several families in his congregation left the area, overwhelmed by debt and oversize mortgages.

"The message is: You don't have to be crazy here and run 90 miles an hour and buy things you can't afford," the pastor said. "We're trying to change people's perspectives."

He counseled his flock to slow down, schedule time to contemplate, put off their latest Circuit City purchase (he was avoiding buying a digital camera), even consider pulling the kids out of sports for a semester.

The message resonated. One member of the congregation began thinking about the dreamy minutes he spent hitting the snooze button between 7 and 7:45 a.m. Could that time be put to spiritual use? Other families delayed purchases of pricey new homes.

McNelley's quest was a challenge. Her tightly scheduled days consist of work at a large construction firm and hours spent in her sport-utility vehicle, ferrying daughter Madison to school, dance class, dinners with her father, the grocery store. She also waitresses on the weekends to earn extra cash.

In early May, though, she went on a spiritual retreat sponsored by the church at a campground in rural Maryland. Among the trees and a field of buffaloes, she wrote in her journal, read the Bible and recharged. It was her first time out of Virginia in seven years.

To accomplish this, she stayed up until 3 a.m. the day before, doing laundry and cleaning her modest apartment. The place is decorated with Madison's drawings. A sign on the wall says in childish script, "My Dream: Everyone could have good food, and be able to work and have enough money to buy a house."

Three days later, McNelley returned home energized for the first time in months. Her face had color. The tears appeared to have stopped for now.

Now her mind was abuzz with other changes she and Madison could make. Maybe sponsor a Russian orphan? It costs about $35 a month, and they could fund it in part by giving up occasional treats at Starbucks -- a tea for her, a hot chocolate for Madison. She also wants to find a cheaper place to live so she can quit her waitressing job and spend more time with Madison.

But by that evening, the treadmill's pull had returned, their schedule thrown into havoc because of the weekend away. Madison had homework. McNelley began unloading the dishwasher so fast she was like a ballerina in her tiny kitchen, spinning.

"I'm a little bit more rushed, but because I have that peace, I'm not going to threaten myself to get it all done," she said.