God has blessed me. And I don’t just mean spiritually. God has, literally, blessed me with material things.
Which is awesome, obviously. But I find I’m having a hard time giving up those gifts with our move to Canada. The mom side of my brain is saying, “It’s irresponsible not to keep these things. God gave them to you. It’s rude to just cast them off now!”
My pretty Corelle dishes that were a gift, my Paula Dean pots, our troves of hand-me-down clothes. It just feels wrong to waste these gifts.
But what I’m finally coming to, finally accepting, is that God has an infinite number of gifts for me. And he can provide these things again. The problem is, I’ve been assigning God the qualities if an earthly parent. The kind that says, “I already gave you that nice thing and you trashed it so I’m not getting you another one.”
I think we do God, and ourselves, a disservice when we liken him to a frustrated, human Father.
And really, even us dumb humans get it right sometimes. I mean, if our son asks us for some bread, it’s not like we’d give him a rock. So if goobers like us know how to give good gifts to our children, I reckon God probably wants to even more. Plus he already knows what we need and stuff.
So I’m slowly losing the guilt trip about not taking all of our previously stock-piled gifts with us. And tentatively grasping at the faith that he’ll provide for us again.