The Lord is my shepherd; I have all that I need. He lets me rest in green meadows; He leads me beside peaceful streams. He renews my strength. He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to His name.
Ps. 23.1-3 (NLT)
Greetings again, my loved ones.
"Budget" is a scary word for me – ask my mom or dad or my friend who worked with me on setting up a new one this month. It's not even that I spend all that much. It's more me fighting against having constraints, having to color between the lines. But, I'm committing to try to be a more responsible steward, to be more aware of exactly where those dollars go. It's a blessing to work in job that is funded by your support. I have more appreciation for the fact that what I spend affects others besides myself – a realization I think we all need.
The topic of the winter issue of The Cry is simplicity, one of WMF's nine Lifestyle Celebrations that we cycle through as the focus of The Cry. More than any other topic so far, simplicity won't get out of my head. I was able to write more about some of the thoughts I've had about simplicity in an article that (I think) will be printed in The Cry, so you can check that out. I won't repeat myself now. I just want to acknowledge that I've been challenged in this way. My new budget, in addition making sense as I moved to a new place with new utilities, is an effort to try to keep better track of what I'm spending, and to spend less.
I have decided that my monthly net pay can decrease by $50. That's a small relief. As you know, I signed my three-year contract this month. It was scary to do so with my current support account balance: -$4,100. Gulp. But, truly, I am hopeful. I go through times of doubt. And then I come to work, and know I'm where I need to be. And I smile at my God. He will bring me through.
In the office, we have the opportunity each day at 3:00 to sit together for 20 minutes of centering prayer. A brief, butchered explanation: Centering prayer is a contemplative prayer method in which you sit in solitude to focus on God, using a sacred word or phrase to help refocus your mind when it starts to wander. Honestly, I'm terrible at contemplative prayer. My mind wanders like crazy, and I usually don't even choose a sacred word. However, I try to participate as often as I can – at the least, I can offer those wandering thoughts as prayers.
During one prayer time last week, I was thinking about how fast that week was going – a week for catching my breath between big events, treading water in between swimming laps. I knew I needed God's help to gear up for more laps.
That led into thinking about the preceding week. Ugh. I had been overwhelmed. I had cried…sort of had a breakdown after a culmination of stresses. I had felt guilty for not being able to deal with it all in kind, guilty for letting others down, guilty for needing others to care for me. It's embarrassing to be vulnerable.
Then I was frustrated at myself for thinking so much during contemplative prayer. I conjured the metaphor for centering prayer I've heard a few times: It's like you are on the bed of a river looking up at the sunlight (God). As the water passes over, it sometimes brings debris into our line of sight, blocking out the sunlight (our thoughts that distract us as we're trying to focus on the still small voice).
Then I remembered an image about control that I once found really meaningful. Have you ever been in a pool and let yourself sink to the bottom just by releasing every bit of air from your lungs, not using your arms or legs to swim at all? Say you're in 12 feet of water. You exhale and start sinking. You hit about 7 feet and suddenly realize, "I don't have any oxygen. I'm going to drown." You scramble to pull yourself up through the water, at last reaching the surface flailing and gasping for air. You feel a little silly. Relax. Breathe in and out a few times. Try again.
If you can do it once, it's no longer terrifying: You discover it's easier if you can make it to the bottom and push off to the surface than it is to pull yourself up after making it halfway. But letting go of all your air – your control – is freaky.
I wasn't even on the riverbed that day in prayer. I was holding onto a passing log, floating downstream. The days when I can decide: Hey, I'm not going to let my stress dictate my life – those are good days. When I can find God from the bed I've found by submitting to Him, when I can ask for help in humility and accept it with gratitude, those are great days.
With love and gratitude and headshakes at my own silliness,
mandy