I've been reading Ann Voskamp's blog for a while. Her beautiful writing compels me to. And after reading her post today, I couldn't stop thinking about the question her husband posed back to her in response to some of her questions: "So. Are we doing anything at all in our lives that requires real faith in God?"
Does that wash over you the way it did me? Did you look at your day to see if there was anything in it that required faith?
I did, and here's the mental list I initially thought of:
Going to work.
Taking care of Annie.
Having a relaxing evening at home.
Nothing out of my comfort zone, so not much faith required to get through my day. But as I pondered this, something not so obvious came to light. I had to take another look at that list and the unspoken part about it.
Going to work.
Taking care of Annie.
Having a relaxing evening at home (by myself).
Similar to Ann's son's wait for the egg to hatch, I wait. I wait on the Lord to see if He will choose to fulfill my desire to be married. And though that may seem like something I should fix on my own, I choose not to. I choose instead to wait for His provision, if that's His will for me. He made me, He sees me, and He knows me, and I believe He knows what's best for me. That's why I wait.
It's not always easy. It's not always fun. And it's not always obvious.
Kind of like faith.
Showing posts with label provision. Show all posts
Showing posts with label provision. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Admitted Need
As I stood on the curb waiting to cross the busy four-lane intersection, the stop lights flashed red in all directions. A scenario like this makes me apprehensive when I am behind the wheel because some drivers do not see that the lights are blinking and run them, while others do not know how to navigate the intersection as a four-way stop. Considering that I was on foot, this situation caused even more trepidation.
After watching the intersection, I noticed that most of the drivers saw that the lights were flashing red and that they checked to see if there was any traffic coming from the side street. But because the side street had almost no traffic, the drivers stopped only momentarily. And not one of them noticed that I was standing on the curb waiting to make my way across all four lanes.
I wondered if I would have to wait until the rush-hour traffic subsided before I could cross the street. As I considered going back in to work for a bit, I looked up and saw a uniformed officer approaching.
As the officer came closer, I asked if he would help me cross the street, and he obliged. The four lanes of traffic respected his authority and let us cross without incident.
It seemed absurd that I, at age thirty-four, needed to ask for help crossing the street. Yet it was so much easier, not to mention safer, to be guided across the intersection by a uniformed officer than if I had tried to do it on my own.
I wonder how many times has God wanted to help me and patiently waited for me to ask, only to see me try a task on my own because I won't put my pride aside. This little instance of admitting my need and watching it be so easily fulfilled has spoken volumes to me about how much more I need to depend on God instead of myself.
After watching the intersection, I noticed that most of the drivers saw that the lights were flashing red and that they checked to see if there was any traffic coming from the side street. But because the side street had almost no traffic, the drivers stopped only momentarily. And not one of them noticed that I was standing on the curb waiting to make my way across all four lanes.
I wondered if I would have to wait until the rush-hour traffic subsided before I could cross the street. As I considered going back in to work for a bit, I looked up and saw a uniformed officer approaching.
As the officer came closer, I asked if he would help me cross the street, and he obliged. The four lanes of traffic respected his authority and let us cross without incident.
It seemed absurd that I, at age thirty-four, needed to ask for help crossing the street. Yet it was so much easier, not to mention safer, to be guided across the intersection by a uniformed officer than if I had tried to do it on my own.
I wonder how many times has God wanted to help me and patiently waited for me to ask, only to see me try a task on my own because I won't put my pride aside. This little instance of admitting my need and watching it be so easily fulfilled has spoken volumes to me about how much more I need to depend on God instead of myself.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Childhood Dream Come True
For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a teacher. Growing up, I subjected my sister, along with every neighborhood child I could round up, to endless hours in the "classroom."
The initial classroom was the metal storage shed towards the back of our property. It was blazing hot in summer, had the potential to house bees and other critters, and thus only allowed for brief teaching sessions.
Next up was a huge spool that must have held utility cable at one point. I have no idea where it came from, but a doorway was cut out, it was painted inside and out, and it became the place where I taught school, along with occasional classes taught by my friend Misti.
After we outgrew the spool and it found a home elsewhere (a/k/a the dump), smaller, more formal classes were taught on our enclosed back porch. It was complete with a real chalkboard, an official pen-like chalk holder, and two real student desks. Unfortunately, we weren't often allowed to run the air conditioner out on the back porch, and so school days couldn't last long there either.
I guess never having had an ideal classroom kept the dream alive. At least long enough to mark down on my freshman high school English teacher's form that I wanted to be a math professor when I graduated.
And then real world numbers started speaking. At first softly whispering how one can't live on the salary that a teacher, or even a professor, makes. And then shouting louder. Loud enough to pursue other career fields.
But God has a funny way of often straightening out my path when I haven't allowed Him to use me for the purpose He wired me for. And this is the week He chose to surprise me with a path correction.
On Monday, out of nowhere, a contract employee who works full-time for an "institution of higher learning" asked me if I would be interested in teaching as an adjunct faculty member one afternoon a week in the fall. Surprisingly, I heard myself reply that I would be interested. He gave me some of the details and then asked me to set up a time to meet with the academic dean. I did that today and will begin teaching August 19. I will not be teaching math, but more along the lines of writing and speaking, which is even better since I haven't officially "done" any higher level math in years.
Though I'm really excited, I don't feel the least bit confident in this new endeavor. I haven't taught grown-ups before, and my days of teaching Sunday school to four year olds showed me that I'm not exactly one to hold people's attention very long. I'm trusting that God will equip me for this task if I continue to lean on Him and seek insight and wisdom on how to creatively teach this class. My goal is to be more interesting than Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller's Day Off. By God's grace, hopefully I will realize that goal and come out on the other side of this twelve-week adventure with some good experience and some new insights about myself as I learn through the teaching process.
The initial classroom was the metal storage shed towards the back of our property. It was blazing hot in summer, had the potential to house bees and other critters, and thus only allowed for brief teaching sessions.
Next up was a huge spool that must have held utility cable at one point. I have no idea where it came from, but a doorway was cut out, it was painted inside and out, and it became the place where I taught school, along with occasional classes taught by my friend Misti.
After we outgrew the spool and it found a home elsewhere (a/k/a the dump), smaller, more formal classes were taught on our enclosed back porch. It was complete with a real chalkboard, an official pen-like chalk holder, and two real student desks. Unfortunately, we weren't often allowed to run the air conditioner out on the back porch, and so school days couldn't last long there either.
I guess never having had an ideal classroom kept the dream alive. At least long enough to mark down on my freshman high school English teacher's form that I wanted to be a math professor when I graduated.
And then real world numbers started speaking. At first softly whispering how one can't live on the salary that a teacher, or even a professor, makes. And then shouting louder. Loud enough to pursue other career fields.
But God has a funny way of often straightening out my path when I haven't allowed Him to use me for the purpose He wired me for. And this is the week He chose to surprise me with a path correction.
On Monday, out of nowhere, a contract employee who works full-time for an "institution of higher learning" asked me if I would be interested in teaching as an adjunct faculty member one afternoon a week in the fall. Surprisingly, I heard myself reply that I would be interested. He gave me some of the details and then asked me to set up a time to meet with the academic dean. I did that today and will begin teaching August 19. I will not be teaching math, but more along the lines of writing and speaking, which is even better since I haven't officially "done" any higher level math in years.
Though I'm really excited, I don't feel the least bit confident in this new endeavor. I haven't taught grown-ups before, and my days of teaching Sunday school to four year olds showed me that I'm not exactly one to hold people's attention very long. I'm trusting that God will equip me for this task if I continue to lean on Him and seek insight and wisdom on how to creatively teach this class. My goal is to be more interesting than Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller's Day Off. By God's grace, hopefully I will realize that goal and come out on the other side of this twelve-week adventure with some good experience and some new insights about myself as I learn through the teaching process.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Please Fence Me In!
Spring in Texas wreaks havoc on wooden fences, especially ones that are anchored with wooden posts that tend to rot underground. And because the rotting that is taking place is hidden underneath the dirt, the fence doesn't give much warning that it is about to take a tumble.
In my fence's case, it started waving like a flag blowing in the wind about a week ago. It tried to fall down last weekend, but a tree limb caught it. My neighbor pounded on it a few times, mending it for all of four days. By Friday, it was literally hanging on by a thread.
Enter David, the Excellent Fence Builder as touted by his wife, and two days of beautiful spring weather. And now, after saying goodbye to my tax refund, I have this beautiful new fence anchored with metal posts.
Fences are expensive; it's just in their nature. They are labor intensive and take a truckload of materials. But in the end, they are priceless.
When the old fence was removed, an ugly sight was waiting on the other side of the boundary line. Apparently, not everyone shares the same views on what constitutes trash or where it should be disposed of. If I had to look at that scene every day, I would go crazy. The new fence saves me from that awful fate.
The fence allows me to let Annie into the backyard by herself. I don't have to grab a leash and go outside with her, which is very time consuming.
The fence also provides me with a sense of security. But I realized last night, when only the metal posts were surrounding my house, that I can't rely on a fence to protect me. In the end, the fence is merely a barrier, not my protector.
I desire to be hemmed in, protected on all sides. And only One can do that.
"You hem me in---behind and before." (Psalm 139:5)
In my fence's case, it started waving like a flag blowing in the wind about a week ago. It tried to fall down last weekend, but a tree limb caught it. My neighbor pounded on it a few times, mending it for all of four days. By Friday, it was literally hanging on by a thread.
Enter David, the Excellent Fence Builder as touted by his wife, and two days of beautiful spring weather. And now, after saying goodbye to my tax refund, I have this beautiful new fence anchored with metal posts.
Fences are expensive; it's just in their nature. They are labor intensive and take a truckload of materials. But in the end, they are priceless.
When the old fence was removed, an ugly sight was waiting on the other side of the boundary line. Apparently, not everyone shares the same views on what constitutes trash or where it should be disposed of. If I had to look at that scene every day, I would go crazy. The new fence saves me from that awful fate.
The fence allows me to let Annie into the backyard by herself. I don't have to grab a leash and go outside with her, which is very time consuming.
The fence also provides me with a sense of security. But I realized last night, when only the metal posts were surrounding my house, that I can't rely on a fence to protect me. In the end, the fence is merely a barrier, not my protector.
I desire to be hemmed in, protected on all sides. And only One can do that.
"You hem me in---behind and before." (Psalm 139:5)
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Not What I Had Planned To Do Tonight
The door unlocked with the press of a button. The key turned in the ignition like normal.
A screech and then silence.
With only that much warning, the battery in my vehicle had decided that today would be its last. It didn't care that it had recently tested in the "good" range. It was done.
That scene unfolded today at 5:00 as I was trying to dash to an appointment by 5:30. I realized that turning the key repeatedly was not going to encourage the battery back to life. Instead, I'd have to change. And thankfully, God paved the way:
A screech and then silence.
With only that much warning, the battery in my vehicle had decided that today would be its last. It didn't care that it had recently tested in the "good" range. It was done.
That scene unfolded today at 5:00 as I was trying to dash to an appointment by 5:30. I realized that turning the key repeatedly was not going to encourage the battery back to life. Instead, I'd have to change. And thankfully, God paved the way:
- I "happened" to park in a flat lot today instead of the parking garage. Had I parked in the multi-level garage, I have no idea how I'd have gotten my dead car out of there.
- No one parked in front of me, leaving plenty of room for someone to jump my car.
- The male co-worker who understands cars was still in the office and came out to jump my car, though we learned that a Honda Civic doesn't have enough juice to jump start an SUV.
- I had just enough cell phone battery to make phone calls to cancel my appointment, enlist the help of AAA, and make arrangements with Firestone to have the battery replaced.
- I was not charged for canceling my appointment. Woohoo!
- My new AAA membership came in handy and provided me with a free "jump." The AAA truck driver arrived promptly, was not creepy, and was able to temporarily revive my battery.
- I made it to Firestone before they closed their doors and was able to get both a new battery and an oil change, which I had planned to do on Sunday.
I can't believe that God worked out all those little details and that I didn't have to worry for a second about whether I would be taken care of. His provision constantly amazes me. Now I just need to start praying for financial provision for replacing the timing belt and making some other costly repairs to my aging vehicle.
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