trust

This is to get me back into the swing of writing;

After I returned from my trip, I had to pay some unexpected bills. …and I ran out of money. thankfully I was already home. Families are awesome. So I start trying to get a job asap. But I don’t get one right away. I am one of those people who feel they need money to survive. I don’t mean huge amounts, but at least something. To not be working to support myself throws me into a funk. Blegh. useless. Perfect. That is, perfect for God. Obvious doors aren’t opening. But the one which has slowly inched into view sits quietly waiting for me to knock. Painting on my own. Could I? would I make it? Is it possible? so I hatch the plan to get a side job and also advertise to paint on my own.

Ironically, the job I get for financial security happens to be a security job. Sweet. So I start the rigmarole to actually get the job. In the meantime, I get several requests for painting. Even better. Maybe I can do this. Now I am feeling secure in my plan.

And God says my plan isn’t good enough. I don’t trust Him enough. Enter crazy story which has no other explanation; I head over to my first job, a very small job. Google shows me the house and I arrive a half hour early. I knock to make sure the guy I am meeting hasn’t gotten there ahead of me. But this woman comes to the door instead, very suspicious. “Is this 11 w smith?” ah, she opens the door and explains that this is 11 E smith and I want the house a block over. “We get food and contractors and packages for that house all the time. What are you?” “Well, I’m a painter.” “Really?! Do you have a minute, could you come in?” and so she commissions me for a week’s worth of work, possibly more.

Trust me, He says. See, you can trust me. I will provide for you. You don’t need your security. I am so much better at this whole planning thing.

And that is when I realized I have been quasi-arguing with God for the past few weeks. But I will take the step. Because it isn’t truly a chance. It’s taking a step, holding tightly to his hand. If it helps, take a big breath and close your eyes. But step. And step again. It is the difference between crawling and dancing.

He surrounds me with his wings when no one else is there to listen. He holds me when I can’t run any farther. He teaches me to dance when I choose to fight.