I find myself in the predicament of having to rely on God to provide a lot of things right now. In addition to needing several things for our American Heritage Girls troop, Mr. P and I also find ourselves in a less-than-ideal financial situation. It’s not dire–we have everything we need and many things we want–but his income has been down over the last several months, and we’ve definitely noticed. With two kids in private school (and yes, they need to be there, and yes, it’s a very reasonably priced school), one needing orthodontic work ASAP, and several housing projects that really need to be tackled soon, I find myself looking at the budget and the savings account and . . . well, I find myself stressed out.
Anxiety has always plagued me. I’ve worried myself into stomach troubles, weight loss, neck pain, headaches, and a veritable ocean of tears at various points in my life. Trusting in God’s provision has never been easy for me.
Mr. P and I are both rabidly independent people. We both hate to rely on anyone else for anything material. At the points in our marriage where we have struggled financially, no one has ever really known about it. We tend to fight those battles ourselves, eschewing even the idea of asking for assistance.
We’re also GenXers. As such, I have always had the ringing voices of those women a generation ahead of me on non-stop replay in my head: “You can be anything you want to be. You should work–you don’t want to be caught depending on a man for your survival. What about your kids? All women have to work nowadays, anyway. Besides, you can have it all.”
Add to all of this my own particular sin of pride and the aftermath of emotions that still flood my spirit as a result of shutting down all of my income earning opportunities, and you have a particularly savory recipe for Little Faith Stew.
I thought about not posting this. I thought about waiting until I saw the provision come through. I thought, “perhaps that’s what God wants from me–to see me wait this out, to see me be faithful in the little things while I wait on Him for the big things.”
But that wouldn’t be very honest of me.
Truth be told, I get scared. I worry that we won’t have enough to give the kids everything they need. I panic that our AHG troop won’t have what it needs in the right time. I consider re-opening my commercial writing business, even though taking on work is probably the very LAST thing I need to burden myself with right now. I think about cutting our household budget, and while there is definitely fat there, it’s not much. I toss around the idea of homeschooling, and then I remember that Boy Patriot is as disinclined to look at math as I am, and I think, “yes, he probably should be somewhere that they’ll make sure he does math.”
So here I am, being honest.
Here I am, walking by faith, trying take that one step, that one foot forward each moment, even though I can’t see very far down the path.
Here I am, trusting, because I don’t know what else to do.
Here I am, being faithful in the little things–making the phone calls for AHG, trimming the budget, planning the homemade gifts for Christmas–because the big things are not mine to control.
Here I am, waiting on the Lord to do His piece, the part that’s His job.
“Oh ye of little faith,” Jesus said. If I cannot trust these little things to the One I’ve entrusted my very eternal soul to, then who can I trust?
Myself? Mr. P? Family and friends? The government?
Sometimes, the difference between a stew full of tough meat, crunchy vegetables, and unsavory flavors is just time and heat. It just needs a little more time over the fire, a little more tumult from the spoon, a little more pressure from beneath.
My Little Faith Stew is sitting over the fire, waiting, being turned around and around by a faithful Savior who already knows exactly what I need and when I need it.
And in good time, Little Faith Stew will become Big Provision Stew.
So for now . . . For now, I wait.
Till next we meet . . .