Money is a worldly worry–our relationship

I think I should make a point to tell you that my relationship with God is pretty hilarious to me. Sometimes I think he looks down at me and giggles that he made such a wild thing, and that this wild thing is His. I bet He giggles at the hilarity that is my life, the silly decisions I make on a regular basis, the bravery I try to have even when I’m deathly afraid. 

Last night was proof enough, again, of our relationship and the intricate way He just gets me, regardless of the range of intense emotions I am feeling at the moment. He always does, and sometimes my breath catches when I realize this fact. When I remember that even when I don’t feel Him, He is always there. 

It was before bed. And I had been thinking about how, after my interview and job offer, I never asked what I would be making an hour. Moving here has put a serious dent in our savings–as we expected. We knew that we would have to pay for the moving truck, and for the new plates, and the different insurances, and so on and so forth. It’s life in a new place, on our own again. It’s going to be expensive, and we had prepared for it. 

But as I sat in my living room last week, overwhelmed by the fact that the monthly bills were piling up, that life here is simply more expensive than it was when we had 40 hour work weeks at a place we were miserable at, and when we were hardly seeing each other. The price of a good life is faith. And He’s been showing this to me–constantly. 

So last night, I had been thinking that I didn’t know how much I was going to be making, that I accepted this job offer because I knew, somewhere deep down that this is where I was supposed to be working. What if the hours and the money just didn’t add up and I couldn’t make enough for us? 

But then He said to me “What if I didn’t let you ask what you would be making because I knew you would be trying to add it all up in your head, trying to decide if you could make it work. But remember, you asked me to put you right where I needed you, to give you the right job. And I did. I want you there.” Then it hit me. Again. Money is a worldly thing. He’s been teaching me this slowly, off and on the past few years. But right now is the biggest test of this belief. I’ve always said that I would rather be homeless than do what He has for me in life. And coming out here, so far away from home, has really tested my belief in this statement. What if the money ran out before we could get jobs and we were forced to join the throngs of homeless people lining the streets of Portland? No, our God would take care of us. If we trusted Him enough to tell us where to go, He would open up the doors for us to have the right jobs, at just the right time. Like I have said before, He doesn’t do something early, He doesn’t do it late, He does it right on time. And getting this job, this is no mistake. I know this deep down. And if this wasn’t a mistake, if this was His plan, He will work out the money. We just have to be wise. 

I think it’s funny that He knew all this. He knew my type A mind, who wants to plan out every step, and to calculate and understand. But I don’t have to. If I really have faith. If I really trust that He has it all planned out, I’ll let it go. Money is a worldly worry. I’ll say it again, He is the accountant. I will be wise. Money is a worldly worry. 

And as much as there are so many unknowns here. As much as I am discovering people and places and trying to find my way, I have never felt more peaceful. Never been more peaceful. 

Struggles in a new city

Here, time flies by. I take each day as I can, swallowing the occasional sadness that comes from a deep homesickness. I do not know where this comes from. I know the memories I am about to make are probably far greater than the fistful of laughter I remember from my home city. And yet parts of me ache for things I never had, which is weird. I guess this feeling hasn’t exactly been foreign to me. Yet, I still believe I am clinging on to the imagined scenarios of myself I wish I had experienced. The acceptance, and the welcoming, mostly. In being different, I somehow always seemed to find myself feeling left out. Left out of the conversations and the understandings. Like I had never managed to grow up past the age of ten, and I was foolish for expecting that other adults would see that, I, too, had become one as well, and deserved to be told how they felt about me. It’s not like I wanted in on the gossip, but just the understanding and the knowledge that comes with being part of one unit, of an entity greater than myself. 

I’m still struggling to find a job. And it’s okay for now. I keep knowing that whatever is supposed to happen, will. And it’s not the fear that my God won’t come through at just the right moment (I know that He doesn’t show up a moment too late or a second too early in our struggles), but I fear that I myself might not be doing enough for Him to work with. I know that I believe that He does not help those who help themselves, but I believe that we have to do something for him to be able to develop. I can’t sit on my ass and hope that He magically creates some beautiful future for me. I have to fight through the fear, push into faith, and struggle through each aspect of my faith. He knows this. 

It’s human nature for many of us to want to do what we can to right the world, to fight for the future WE believe we deserve, and to put into works what we want. But sometimes we just plain don’t know what we want. We couldn’t know what we want because these truths have not been revealed to us. So we sit and wait and press our palms together hoping that we will be able to find the treasure hidden for us on the end of the path that has been carved into the forest just for us. A path that has our names on it. You see, we each were given a path. We all have a future mapped out, a destiny, per say. And gifts–things we are so very good at–that we are supposed to use to change the world in some way. It may be simple. Maybe our gift is our compassion and our need to help those around us. Our path may be slow steps to being a light in someone else’s life. But we would not be able to see this path without the help of some divine spirit. 

So I believe that I must do my part to find my path, to push through the forest for the trees, and to fight, to always fight, for the use of the gifts I have been given. That’s my duty. And I worry, that right now I’m not doing enough. I’m trying to apply for jobs when I can, but as far as resumes go, I don’t exactly know what I’m doing. Having worked entry level positions my whole life, it’s different for me to not simply fill out an application online, but to formulate a complicated process of words and letters to explain just what I learned and did at my old jobs. I had put down what I felt were challenges to me at my old jobs–what I had learned and fought through–because I thought that it would give others a good sense of the type of person I am. Until my husband told me that while he completely understood the point of view I had been trying to display, to others it might look like I was complaining about the challenges I had faced. I’ve decided to keep those to myself until I interview. I guess that might stay off any confusion on their part. 

The other challenge I have faced is not knowing exactly why I am here. I know I was sent here so I could use my gifts. Meet people. Start reaching towards my dreams. 

A few weeks ago I was lying in bed, honestly overwhelmed and scared for the future, and for the things that we ahead. Often, He talks to me in the quiet times, in the pauses when my heart beats fear and confused. Suddenly, I heard Him say, “Remember when you felt weak and hopeless? I will use you to speak to thousands. Be bold in the faithfulness of my promises.” And I smiled, because He has shown me this in a vision. Because I have held tight to this promise, this small glimpse into my future, and have remained strong in the face of all adversaries. 

I’m so tired of being weak. Of finding myself drowning beneath humanity and the expectations I have of my future. I don’t know what to expect. Who or where I am supposed to be meeting others. And this is why I feel like maybe I’m not doing enough for Him. That I’m not getting out enough. Maybe I’m not pushing myself when I feel exhausted from the newness of a different way of life. 

I don’t really know how else to explain it. To express the tumult of thoughts that threaten to assault me daily. I sometimes lie in the quiet and hear my heart beating a symphony of fears and expressions of unknowns I haven’t accounted for. I over-analyze everything. Feel myself sometimes gasping for air in an empty room, like the expectations I have placed around my neck are too tight, and all I need, all I fucking need is one moment to breathe. Just a moment to breathe. 

I find myself in a torrent. The teetering of finding myself on the brink of change and staring into the light that is my future, clouded by a myriad of questions. Of unknowns. How do I navigate?