A Fragmented Post on Provision, Gratitude and Steadfast Love

These are the years memories are made…but then again, isn’t that every year?

I spend a lot of time inside my head. I always said that if I ever wrote a book, it would be called Conversations with Myself then Nelson Mandela went and stole my idea…oh well. I suppose if anyone was going to steal it, I would have wanted it to be him.

These are the years memories are made of. I thought this whilst thinking about Christmas and how there is so much more that I wish I could give my children, my husband and my family at this time of year (I realize that it is not technically Christmas yet, but preparations have already begun). We do what we can. Our small two-bedroom apartment will, no doubt, be decked with holiday trim, the scent of cinnamon and gifts under the tree but a girl can dream.

A girl did dream. It is one of my most vivid memories – a memory of my own imagination. A large home, settled in the woods, smoke rising from the stone chimney. Inside, the bustle of people, the smell of turkey and Christmas baking, a huge Christmas tree, grand piano and love and laughter. At Christmas, we celebrate the greatest gift of all – Jesus Christ. But where there should be gratitude, discontentment often lingers and we find ourselves in a tension of wanting more and wanting to give more.

We are poorer than we have ever been. After two and a half years of unemployment and under-employment, our bank accounts have dwindled exponentially. Now, we have a baby on the way to add to the mix. T-minus four months, give or take, until baby’s arrival and while people say that babies don’t cost anything, I think we all know that they do. There are certain things that you need to have: a place to sleep, diapers, a car seat and for us walkers, a stroller. Not to mention the severe pay cut that will be taken once I go on maternity leave from a job with no benefits. I panicked to think about how all of this would happen. If I am honest with myself (and you) I still do have moments of panic, like at 5am this morning. But I try to remind myself of God’s provision and repeat over to myself, multiple times a day that it will be okay.

After all, hasn’t a friend given me a beautiful stroller, free of charge? And hasn’t the bedding situation worked out perfectly in that my kids will be receiving bunk beds for Christmas so that we can convert Ella’s bed back into a crib for baby? And wasn’t I able to purchase a winter coat for Ella when Vancouver’s mild temperatures suddenly dropped this past week when I truly wondered how I was going to make this happen?

Doubt is a natural part of being human. It is the outworking of fear and lack of trust. But gratitude has a way of dissolving all of the illusions of inadequacy. I supposed I failed at documenting my 66 days of gratitude, but the reality is, it is still constantly and consistently on my mind. Everyday, in my reading, two words have been ever-present.

Steadfast Love.

I still struggle to know what this phrase means but I am learning and just reading it over and over again helps dissolve the worry that paralyzes me and steals my joy. Above all, I am grateful for this steadfast love and if I pull away the curtain of doubt, I see it in the everyday.