Live Like the Weasleys

Practicing craft in a world of conspicuous consumption

British 19th Century, after John Sell Cotman, Cottage at Diss

In J.K. Rowling’s famous Harry Potter series, there lives a family of redheads who are poor, a bit loud, and messy. The Weasleys are not powerful or distinguished. Their bank vault is nearly empty. But they exude wonder, joy, and togetherness. It’s no wonder the series’ orphaned protagonist, Harry, longs to be with the Weasleys at their home, The Burrow.

Since reading the Harry Potter books many years ago, I’ve returned time and again to the cozy joy and ordinary wonder of the Weasleys. And since reading Haley Stewart’s book, The Grace of Enough, I have wondered what it would take to emulate the Weasleys more seriously. This post is deeply indebted to Haley’s book, which prompted me to think long and hard about the importance (perhaps one might be so bold as to say the sacredness) of thrift and humility, as exemplified in this fantastical family.

As Haley puts it in her book, our sociopolitical environment is one in which most folks aspire to wealth, power, and lots of new, shiny things (smartphones, new cars, or fancy watches). We measure our worth by these things, more often than not. Especially in America, conspicuous consumption is everywhere. If you’re middle-class (or higher) in the United States, you know the pressure of “keeping up with the Joneses.” It’s an all-consuming—and, I increasingly feel, absolutely debilitating and dangerous—project in the U.S.

The Weasley way of life is, in contrast, modest. The kids’ cauldrons and clothes are secondhand. Their home is a collection of used and repurposed items. They have to put up with the embarrassment of “less-than.” But in the difficulties of making do, Molly Weasley and her family never appear embarrassing. In fact, their lives are characterized by such bounty, they’re constantly pouring into the lives of others. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have learned—and model for their children—the beauty of thrift.

“Thrift” can be defined as “the quality of using money and other resources carefully and not wastefully.” It comes from the same root as the word “thrive.” And some of its synonyms include prudence, canniness, and economy (from the Greek oikonomia, or “household administration”). To be thrifty is to manage one’s resources with prodigious care. It is clear, however, that the thrifty person need not be a miser. Rather, the economizing individual knows how to relish in what one has, to delight in the savvy of frugality, and to thrive while doing it.

Molly is a feisty, strong, creative mother and witch. She worries about her kids and their futures (very easy to understand, now that I’m a mom myself). But her first priority is to cultivate a sense of home and rest that her kids (and their friends) can rely on. Molly Weasley sends Harry Christmas presents—a knitted sweater and homemade mince pies—after only having met him once. The Burrow bustles and brims over with good food, happy messes, and the loveliest cottage garden. One of my favorite scenes at The Burrow happens in The Goblet of Fire, when the Weasleys’ oldest sons Bill and Charlie come home to visit. The boys mend two tables sitting in the back garden, and spread them with tablecloths. Mollie cooks up a feast for her family and friends. And then they all eat and converse late into the summer evening, teasing and enjoying each other’s company. Molly’s thrift turns into plenty, and her hospitality makes everyone feel at home.

Molly’s husband, Arthur, is characterized by a wonder and gratitude that I envy. He sees beauty in the simplest of objects, and delights in the inventive beauty of ordinary things. He does not need the newest, best, or shiniest. He is grateful for everyday wonders (like “Muggle” cars and ticket machines). He reminds me of G.K. Chesterton, who argues that “grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony.” Somehow, Arthur is strong enough.

I think it’s these aspects of Arthur and Molly that make their children who they are. Fred and George’s senses of humor, for instance, are married to an incredible tenacity and resilience, an ingenuity and artistry that enables them to love, bless, and delight the people around them. Ron is deeply loyal and generous. His friendship with Harry is instant and deep, persisting through hardship, pain, and danger.

So what does this mean for the rest of us, living in sadly non-magical homes? What we see in the Weasleys is an example of what it means to make do, to be happy with what we have, to celebrate everyday rhythms and joys, and not to worry about trying to keep up with the Malfoys. And I can’t help but wonder, if more of us (myself included) lived like the Weasleys—would our world be a better place? I think it would be.

We have to recover a wonder in the ordinary and the simple that enables us to be content with what we have. But we should also embrace a bit of Molly and Arthur’s craftiness: their delightful habits of creation, which are truly ingenious. What if we bought less and learned to mend, tinker, repair, and maintain? What if we delighted in homes in which things do fall apart, but we put them back together? What if we invited folks over even when our lives are imperfect and messy?

It’s a lovely and joyful vision, once you pause to look at it. And the good news: it’s free for the taking.

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Thank you to everyone who participated in the book giveaway! So happy to get to share Uprooted with you guys. And thanks for participating in a celebration of five years of writing and thinking in this space.

I am planning to take a little break from writing, so that I can focus on school with kids this fall/spring and not overload my schedule. Homeschooling three kids is going to be a lot, and I’m trying to build in margin a bit better than I normally do. I hope to write more in the spring, but I won’t make promises so I don’t worry about breaking them. :)

I apologize for any inconvenience this causes—I will be sad not to read your comments and feedback! I will pause all subscriptions, so do not worry about getting charged. I’ll open subscriptions back up once the schedule calms down and I can write regularly again. :)

Cheers!
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