i've had the song "enough" by Sara Groves looping in my head for days:
late nights, long hours
questions are drawn like a thin red line
no comfort left over
no safe harbour in sight
really we don't need much
just faith to believe
there's honey in the rock
there's more than we see
these patches of joy
these stretches of sorrow
there's enough for today
there'll be enough tomorrow
this song was a gift from my brother-in-law a year and a half ago, and truly pushed me through some hard anxiety-ridden days. and there was enough. there was always enough - enough compassion, enough tenderness, enough coffee and friendship and light for the next day. sometimes more than enough, and sometimes scraping the bottom of the bowl.
yesterday i was reading in the Bible about the Israelites in the wilderness after being rescued from Egypt. i remember reading these stories as a teen and thinking "what is their problem.... stop complaining and just trust! i mean, God just literally parted a sea for you!!!" and that Prince of Egypt movie didn't help - the whale in the wall of water?!!! come on!
but now i read these stories and think - i would totally do that. i would forget, and fear, and see the hunger and thirst in my children's eyes and get angry. i would totally have been up in Moses' face, complaining and questioning. why are we here? why did God bring us out here for this pain? i know i would totally do that because i have done it, many many times.
then God sends manna. just enough for each day - no more (except before sabbath which is incredible and worthy of a whole other post). and we read that it's a test, a test of trust. can these mothers and fathers collect just enough for one day and trust that in the morning there will be more? one day at a time.
i've heard about an orphanage during one of the world wars where they started allowing children to sleep with a loaf of bread. these poor children were so afraid, they had lived through such destitution, scrounging around for morsels to eat until they were rescued, that the only way they would truly rest was in the security of knowing they would have enough to eat for the next day. they slept with the bread in their arms, like security blankets, or teddy bears.
i feel like this is a season, again, of trust. i find myself scrounging and need to remind myself of manna, of enough. i am trapped by my responsibility - the belief i have to find a way to make some money and help keep this household afloat - and wake up in the mornings with my jaw screaming from clenching my teeth all night. here's what God reminded me this week: i am not responsible for this. i am responsible for following the cloud, for warming myself by the fire, and trusting for the bread in the morning.
He has promised there will be enough.