The dread of waking up.
I don't really feel this anymore. I've convinced my brain that it wants to be awake when the sun comes up. The quiet hours of the morning are exactly what this introverted soul requires to have a beautiful day.
Here in Nash, the sun sleeps in, which means every day this week, I could open my east-facing window and watch the sky prepare for the day. I had ample time to sip my coffee, eat some yogurt, and embrace my Savior. No more racing out the door. No more hitting snooze or setting multiple alarms.
This week I chose to spend my waking moments with gratitude. I chose to be thankful for the day, and believe me, that will adjust its trajectory dramatically.
Sounds like a beautiful alteration to my life, no? Well, it's not entirely this simple.
Don't get me wrong; everything you just read is totally true. It's just when you're not in a rush, the fears you've been outrunning will catch up to you, and this solitude led to the reappearance of mine:
We made a November budget today. That made reality as solid as the floor. I realize that we have to really cut back on our luxuries. We really need to sacrifice. We need to waste less. We need to eat less meat, less dairy. Buy more in bulk? Use coupons? Less dining out. I just need to know we're working as hard as we can. (A journal entry from Sunday, 23 Oct, 2016)
Worry made me apply for another job. I ended up making it to the interview stage and then being rejected because the need was no longer there. (This has never happened to me before, so I'm sure you can imagine how I felt.) I was like, NO. I'm trying so hard! And that was just it. I had gone from a place of trusting my Father with my life to trying to carry my burdens on my own again. It's as if I said to Him, "Thanks for getting me this far. I can take it from here." And He said to me, "Sure. Go for it."
Here's the thing: I often find myself like Naomi (you know, that super relatable character in Ruth's story). As much as I want to be like Ruth-- sacrificial, humble, service-oriented, everything good in the story-- I end up like her bitter, cranky, mother-in-law who takes matters in her own hands and tries to force the provision of God in her life.
Woah. How often do we wedge our own will into God's perfect plans? How often do we think, "God, You're not moving fast enough. Just let me handle it." There's a certain impatience that accompanies a lack of trust, here.
When fear says, "You need to work incessantly otherwise you won't have everything you need," I must reply, "My Father is consistent. He takes care of His people." I must say, "My Father knows my story. He sees the difficulties in my circumstances and will richly provide for my needs in HIS timing."
His timing. Not one minute earlier.