More than Enough

Well friends, it has now been thirty-one days since my all of my household goods were packed up into boxes, wrapped up like Christmas presents, and loaded into the back of some truck. We had reserved only a couple of boxes-worth of things for ourselves to help us make the move from Texas to Alaska: About six days of outfits, 3 shoes, 2 pajamas, and 2 swimsuits a piece. We brought some car activities to help entertain the kids on their 4,000 mile move, to include a few novels, a couple puzzle books, some journals and sketchpads, colored pencils, a handful of DVD's and pretty much every hand-held gaming device that we owned. (Because 4,000 miles, people.) Every self-care item that I brought for the four of us fit into two tiny kits.
The dogs have their food bowls and leashes.
We brought the family documents in a small safe.
I'm typing this on a laptop.

Our family stayed in hotels every night of our twelve-day journey, but we had packed some sleeping bags just in case.
We have now been using our "just in case" sleeping bags for one whole week.


The things that were so carefully boxed and wrapped and loaded away one month ago today are basically M.I.A. (We're hoping en route on a boat, but we don't really know for sure.) Those things in the couple boxes we brought are the things that I have to make a home. To dress our bodies. To work. To play.
I don't really consider myself a super-materialistic person, but I have cried about this. More than once.

I start to cry because I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated that it's taking so long. I'm frustrated because I don't know why our moving coordinator is not communicating with us. I'm frustrated because I want so badly for my children to be comfortable in their new home, and I want our family to start feeling settled here, and that's hard to do in those "just in case" sleeping bags.

But then I start to cry because I get mad at myself for feeling frustrated.
Of course we are fortunate enough to buy some new stuff, and we have. (Just don't ask me about the prices in Alaska, or I'll start crying again.) Having no things has made ample opportunities to explore our new surroundings. We have a house. We have some clothes. We have water and food and just-in-case sleeping bags.
And we have each other.

These should be the most important things, I know, but I am still sitting around crying about my stuff.
It's made me do a lot of questioning on my definition of "enough."

My family was so excited about moving to Alaska, we could hardly contain it. The promise of adventure, the unparalleled beauty, the wildness, the roughness, the super-cold, the super-dark, the super-sun---I wanted all of it. It never crossed my mind that it would start out so--I don't know--miserably. I reminded me of another rough start I had heard about before:

The whole Israelite community set out from Elim and came to the Desert of Sin, which is between Elim and Sinai, on the fifteenth day of the second month after they had come out of Egypt. In the desert the whole community grumbled against Moses and Aaron. The Israelites said to them, “If only we had died by the Lord’s hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death." (Exodus 16: 1-3)

But the very next verse spoke something into my soul that I can't shake.

Then the Lord said to Moses, “I will rain down bread from heaven for you. The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day. In this way I will test them and see whether they will follow my instructions.

This is a lesson I'm still in the process of learning to be sure, but I think the main points of the story are coming together for me.

The people grumbled, but the Lord gave.
I am more uncomfortable than I wish I was, but I am not without. Complaining to my husband isn't the answer. Griping on social media isn't the answer. I've learned when I'm anxious about my stuff, just to pray about it. Psalm 38:9 says, You know what I long for, Lord; You hear my every sigh. The Lord has heard me sigh a lot, y'all.
And He's provided.
(Which brings me to the second point:)

He rained down blessings out of the sky, but the people had to pick it up.
For the first little while that we were here, we got to stay in a fully furnished townhouse with maid service. (Again, let me go cry about it, right?!) While we were staying there, the woman in the unit next door came out and told us about a program on post that lets you borrow furniture for free while you wait for your stuff. It's not flashy or fancy, but it's a bed, table and chairs, washer and dryer. It fills the need.
Now her information alone felt like manna raining down, but it wouldn't have done us any good if we didn't figure out where the building was and how to request it, (and then follow up with them after they missed our original delivery date.)
I guess what I'm trying to say is, the blessings are out there, but that doesn't mean we always just get to sit there and have them fall in our laps.

And that leads into the final point:

This is only a test.
Which I admit sounds a little scary, but we are taught not to fear the tests--for they refine us.
Particularly in this season, I am feeling pressed to evaluate things like:
What really gives my life richness?
What really makes a settled home? (Namely, why do I think I need stupid things like wall art to feel "settled?")
What do we really need?
What have I been taking for granted?
How do I take this frustration and turn it into contentment--gratitude, even?
The thing about the manna is, if the people didn't gather, they wouldn't get fed. But if they took too much, then it went rotten.
What are some good things that I might have taken too much of?
And the real kicker--Am I trusting God to provide for us? Every need? Every day?


I don't expect this to be a thing that I magically get better at overnight. (And I pray I don't need 40 years like the Israelites.) But tonight when I lay in my borrowed bed with my just-in-case sleeping bag, if my eyes start to well up with frustrated tears, then I will remember to reset with these words:
Pray; Gather; Believe.

(And if I need His words, and not mine:)

But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus. (Philippians: 4:19)

Whatever I need, He gives enough.
(Help me believe it better, Lord.)