The whole day-job-thing-a-ma-jiggy still hasn’t arrived. Gonna have to place a new order at the Employment Store. They’ve messed up on my last two orders, so now I’m more specific with what I want in a job: Great pay, great hours, benefits, drama-free zone, room for advancement. Is that too much to ask? I think not!

But I’ve been learning a lot about finances and frugality during this season. Primarily, my reliance on God hasn’t wavered. In fact, I can honestly say it’s grown stronger. I mean, when I have nothing, who else am I going to depend on but my Head of Household to get things taken care of?

Sure enough, True to form, God has been taking care of us quite nicely. We’re not drowning in riches, we’re not clothed in silky garments. But our needs, and oftentimes our desires, are met. A new DVD now and then. A friend willing to drive to Disneyland. A frozen pizza in the freezer.

But sometimes, I admit, I want more. I just do. I want more. I want security. I want options. I want income. Now. I want more than I have. I need more. I’m worried about next week, next month, the rest of this year. Next year. Retirement. I’m just worried.

And so I pray. A lot. I pray in Thanksgiving that I am healthy and alive. I pray petitions for all of the above and then some. I pray in adoration of God’s love and providence. And I pray again for what I think I need.

It was during this prayer time last week that God reminded me of something huge. I began by praying The Lord’s Prayer. The “Our Father”. I was going through the first part of the Prayer, careful to give thought to each sentence and not just recite it. “Our Father, Who Art in Heaven…” He’s my Father. My Poppa. My Daddy. He loves me with a Father’s love. That’s really comforting. And important. Because Father knows best, right?! So when He talks, I should listen.

I should. …

Back to the Prayer. Each line, each sentence a beginning to my own personal pleadings. And then…

“Give us this day our daily bread…”[Matthew 6:11, NIV]

It’s not “Give us this day our retirement bread” or “Give us this day our yearly bread” or even “Give us tomorrow’s bread.” It’s “Give us this day our daily bread”. Even better, just 14 easy verses later, He urges us to not worry about tomorrow. We already have what we need: Shelter. Clothing. Fellowship. We already have what we need.

Since this revelation, I’ve taken a better look around me, and I see: We already have so much. Furry felines that double as footwarmers. Birds that add music to the air. A loving household. A car that works. The ability to communicate, to touch each other, to share. We have so much already.

I have a roof over my head, gas in the car, food in the freezer and pantry, and the utilities are paid for the month. My daughter and I are alive and healthy. We have decent clothes. Good friends. But I’m not enjoying this security. I’m letting the worries of tomorrow interfere with the joys of today.

I feel really small. Really ungrateful. Really… selfish.

And I see.

He’s already given us this day our daily bread.

And to spare.

When you think about it, we’re all pretty rich, aren’t we?

And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!

Institute of Children's Literature
My Last Disney Day
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