Scared . . . Did Someone Say Scared?

Oh, I've read all the scriptures. I've sang all the songs, but there is just something that happens when the rubber meets the road. It is a different kind of phenomena altogether when you are waiting to see what Papa's plan holds for you. Suddenly, you wish there was some unknown scripture that you had not underlined, highlighted, memorized and pasted to your forehead for good measure. You scour the Bible hoping to read something between the lines to give you a hint at what is supposed to follow this great leap. You're free falling and hoping the next sound you hear isn't the splat of your body hitting the ground.

So, did I make things sound desperate enough? I'm just being real about where I'm living right now. We got Dan's last check this week. We haven't even deposited it in the bank, and most of it is gone. There's enough money to maybe pay the rest of this month's bills, and then? Well, then is the question indeed. I'm hoping for a windfall, praying for a miracle and knocking on God's door incessantly.

This thing is completely out of my hands now, and I'm not totally thrilled with how I feel about that. It strikes me that a note of panic is resounding in the back of my mind, which has resulted in a pounding in my head. My heart seems to be racing a little faster than usual, and that is making me sweat (Maybe I should say perspire - aren't women supposed to perspire or perhaps it was glisten - you get the picture). In any case, I am suffering from peaceful panic, I suppose.

Oh, I still have that overlying peace, but my humanness is fighting it every step of the way. My brain keeps telling my heart that it's lost its mind. Talk about conflicting feelings. All the while, my daughter is sticking a 2/$5 sticker on me, which just reminds me that I pretty much can't afford 2 of anything for $5 anymore.

OK, I'm calming down now. Wait, no, the questions are rushing in like a raging river. It's not just the questions from other people. No, they don't ask nearly as many questions as I posit to myself. Where will we live? How will we live? Is my baby who despises change of any kind going to completely flip out when we take her from her only home and transplant her to new surroundings, new people, a completely foreign life? Are we going to be able to sell our house? Should we sell our house? Are the credit card companies going to get the opportunity to hunt me down and take away my favorite T-shirt because I can't pay them anymore?

Well, the last one may be a little far-fetched. My favorite T-shirt isn't worth much, so it's probably safe. The point is that my head is full of questions, and I haven't an answer to one of them right now. Fortunately, my heart has now responded to my brain's accusations with the clarification that my brain hasn't managed to do so much on its own thus far. So, my heart is reminding my brain that Papa has everything under control.

My pulse is slowing. My headache is dulling. I think I'm going to make it. Boy, this experience makes a lobotomy sound like a promising proposition. I suppose I'll have to do what I'm sure Moses, Abraham, David, Daniel and my other biblical predecessors did . . . Remind myself that Father keeps His promises, and I just need to be patient until I can see the answer that is already on its way.

After all, "my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus." At least that's what Paul tells the Philippians in Philippians 4:19. I'm sure glad He doesn't supply our needs according to our riches, or I'd be in really big trouble! Oh, come on - you know you smiled at that one!

Blessings!