Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?
You guys, why am I surprised every week? Seriously, every. single. week.
I can tell you why. It’s because I don’t want to expect too much. I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment. Because disappointment can be the first step in the slippery slope of flying down the side of Crisis-Of-Faith Mountain.
So I wake up each morning and slip into my tough spiritual exterior.
The problem with this, of course, is that it not only protects me from potential pain, but potential joy – both are numbed in the process.
This year, The Year Of Trusting, is something that I have a very hard time processing because I won’t let my feelings run too deep. I don’t feel it. I float above my own life like some odd out-of-body experience, watching the provision, the blessing, like an observer, like one of you.
Between this, and the fact that I’m much more eloquent and expressive with a laptop, I’m afraid I never quite seem appreciative enough in my face-to-face interactions. I accept gifts with a certain casualness, numbness, that you might expect to show a friend who’s just carried in your junkmail. Thanks. Just put it over there. Whatever.
Somewhere, deeper down, in my heart or soul or mind, I realize I’m witnessing weekly miracles. Like, legitimate, water spewing from rock, bread brought by ravens, miracles. But those parts of my understanding aren’t easily visible.
I wish I could gush, could hug and tear up and profess how much I truly do appreciate your gifts without having to retreat to his keyboard. But that’s just not me. Maybe one day.
This week from our amazon grocery wishlist we received some sweet honey.
The Wild Boys snagged some more new-to-them shirts.
A local friend gifted us a bit of produce.
And someone from church picked up some awesome organic goodies for us, as well as cleaned out their own pantry and gave from the excess. (And I was all. Thanks. Just put it over there. Whatever. Sigh.)
What has blown me away week after week after ever-lovin week, is the quality of food that God has provided. If anything comes close to breaking through my tough exterior, it is this. We’ve consistently dined on much finer fair than we did before the move.
When we made this wacky decision to sell everything and move 3000 miles away, knowing we couldn’t afford to do it (seriously, what were we thinking?), I guess I resigned myself to a fate of surviving off of ramen noodles. Of a subpar North American existence.
And yet, despite my calloused, cynic’s heart, the gifts keep heaping on my shoulders.
It’s like God super, really likes me or something. Weird.