I talked with my sister-in-law recently. She has been working part-time for a year or two now, unemployed for over a year before that. She has learned to live on very little, so much less than what I would consider the bare essentials. And it makes me wonder: what is sufficient to live on? How many of my so-called needs are really not needs at all?
A robin needs only a nest, food, and perhaps a puddle to bathe in. My cat is content with food, water, and a warm place to curl up, preferably my lap. She would also like a bit of my turkey sandwich and a taste of my ice cream, so I suppose she is not as satisfied as the robin in the holly tree. But her tastes are definitely simpler than mine. Do I really need a television, stereo, computer, closet full of clothes, and half a dozen flavors of ice cream? I probably don’t need all those shelves of books either, but I can’t imagine parting with them. I’d get rid of the television and half my clothes before the books. But that’s just me.
Paul said, “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” (Philippians 4:12) He didn’t say it was better to be poor. The secret is to be content however life finds you. I don’t have to give up my books and my computer, but I do need to hold onto them loosely. They must not be too important in my life. If my possessions take too much of my attention or time, I probably need to get rid of some. Maybe even a few books. And I do need to share with those in need, when I find myself living in plenty. Because I know the blessings I have are more than sufficient.
Sparrow Thoughts 
I know a young woman who dropped her mobile phone in a puddle during anight out. She didn’t even stoop down to pick it up. Just walked away and got another one later, with another contract.
We’ve figured out how to turn on the machine and churn out material goods. I think there are generations who have a whole different attitude to material objects. They don’t know how to value one in itself, because they always encounter masses of interchangeable units. I’m writing with my feet on a footstool that my grandfather made. I’ve repaired it. It’s not particularly impressive. But it is not a replaceable object.
I’m finding that I’m spending increasing amounts of time making things for people and myself. I wonder what the difference is between being content with a handmade object and being content with a mass of indistinguishable and easily replaceable industrial objects.
Interesting thoughts. Certainly it is much easier to give up things that do not have personal meaning. I could give up a piece of furniture I bought at the store much more easily than I could give up the rocking chair that my father sanded and stained, and which my mother rocked me in when I was a baby. The afghan my mother knitted for me will always be special. While I am too thrifty to toss a phone as quickly as the woman you mention, a gadget definitely has less meaning than the rocking chair or afghan. I hope that the present generation will not lose that sense of value. I think some still have it, even among the young.