I have always loved presents. As the youngest of four kids and the daughter of a pastor, getting something new—not second-hand, slightly-used, or hand-me-down—delighted me to the core. But as the last of the sibling pack, it was ONLY on my birthday or at Christmas that I didn’t have to fight for what was in front of me.

From the last crumbled cookie, to the broken popsicle that no one else wanted, a sense of lack sat deep in my little-girl-soul. I had this continual feeling that I was going without. That I was somehow deprived. That I had to hold on tightly to what was in my grasp.

Even at a young age, I had become an expert at treasure hunting—continually searching for something to fill the “want.” At age five, I vividly remember my mom telling me that I could keep all the pennies I had found around…