I noticed my thumbnail as I handed pesto samples to customers. Embarrassed, I pulled away. No matter how many times I try, I can’t seem to keep the dirt out.
Like my spiritual life.
Take my walk of faith. There are times I can shout from the mountaintops about God’s faithfulness. I see Him working specifically, and I tell others about it.
Then there are times like Friday night. I’d planted vegetables for two long days, and before those days were other long days. Since Tom and I moved here, we’ve made about $70. We’ve spent, well we’ve spent almost enough to buy a small house in Kansas or a garage in Florida.
How in the world are we gonna survive, Lord?
I knew God called us here. Supernatural circumstances brought us here. But could God keep us here?
My meltdown occurred as I prepared for the farmer’s market after a full day of planting. Exhausted, I whined.
Tom intervened. “Don’t go, Pauline! I don’t know why you’re trying to do all this anyway. Remember, this is a practice year.”
Yes, I remembered. But when I took my first squashes to a market and they paid me $5.84, I panicked. Months of hard work, along with oodles of money poured into the business and it didn’t even cover my gas.
What did I do? Rested.
I got a good nights’ sleep.
Then, I remembered my verse for this year. It’s found in Isaiah 30:15, “In repentance and rest is your salvation. In quietness and trust is your strength.”
I felt like the father in the gospel who asked Jesus to heal his son. Jesus tells him that all things are possible if he believes. The father responded like I did, “Lord I believe, help my unbelief.”
I need help to believe. I’m weak. God loves it when I am ’cause I know I have to depend on Him. Other times, I forge ahead in life, forgetting my weakness. Not realizing I control nothing.
Through His Word and His people and a few good nights of sleep, I’m trusting.
Today, we planted and then I walked through the woods to my house and sat in my unfinished living room. I opened the door and drank in God’s beauty. I read a Psalm and prayed.
And then got back to work.
But I had a little extra time. Tom and I sat on the floor of the back porch and took two chickens out of their brooder. We whispered to them and sat them on our laps while we stroked their backs.
It’s important to take time to pet a chicken.
We had breakfast in mugs filled with Greek yogurt while we sat on dirt clumps on row 17 of our field. We took time to toss Sam the ball, and unfortunately for him, there was time for his bath.
And tonight we invited a young farmer and his wife for dinner. We’re having a pork roast and eggplant and squash we grew on the grill. I’m looking forward to it.
I don’t know what the future holds, but neither do you.
But I’m quietly trusting God.
At least today.
Then I’ll have to take out the fingernail file.