{This is Part 2 of a 2-part series. You can read Part 1, Someday Is Today, here.}

On the other side of my window, there’s a whole lotta squeaking going on. Inside the old Aspens, in nests stacked like condos, mini-mouths need feeding. An army of dark-feathered Starlings are on the job, though. Sunshine tints them pearly blue as they bounce across the lawn, jutting their beaks into the grass. They’re yanking up worms like morning manna. 

Which leads me to imagine Jesus standing on a hillside, addressing a great crowd. Addressing you and me.

‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?’ -Matthew 6:26

I picture him gesturing toward the azure waters of the Galilean Sea, gulls swirling in the distance.

I attempted to gesture the other day. Knocked my iced tea clean over, sent it splashing toward my friend sitting across from me. But back to the topic.

Why can’t we just be like the birds? In fairness, we do have an added challenge over our feathered friends; we’ve been given the capacity to worry. Also, the capacity to compare columns of numbers—income versus expenses, for example—and to know when they don’t reconcile.

When the Columns Don’t Add Up

This has typified our current season. Committed to a fledgling business, our set course has been one of sizing down, scaling back, sticking it out. A daily practice of trust where the rubber meets the country road.

So when, six months ago, I listened for my one-word theme for the new year, I was intrigued to land on the word Plenty. How odd, I thought. Why plenty, when for years we’ve been training ourselves to simplify. . . and then simplify some more? But there it was, like a random tune stuck in my head. 

In what way or ways, I wondered, would I see my year through the lens of abundance?

At the time we didn’t even know where we would live next, with only five months left in our temporary housing arrangement. And yet I felt peace. “We’ll have plenty,” I kept repeating to Garth like an annoying myna bird.

Sure enough, we got a call two weeks before our lease ended. Turned out our relatives were ready to move out of the little old white house—a place we’d once called home but had to abandon when our daughter’s illness escalated. (We suspected mold, which was a trigger for her autoimmune disorder.)

So now we’re back in the house where I fought my most epic battles with worry. Scary days, navigating an illness that inflamed Chelsea’s brain and affected her reasoning. Sleepless nights, pleading for her survival.

Funny. The house that contributed to her sickness now feels like a place of healing. Sun-filled, serene . . . and mold-free.

But a shocking dilemma was revealed as I inventoried the house’s contents, plus the things we brought, plus some we squirreled away years ago in a shed: too much stuff . . . again!

Excess furniture. An overload of books. And far too many kitchen items. What was I thinking keeping boxes of extras for the kids? Have your grown kids ever tapped on the door saying, “Hey Mom, got an extra grapefruit knife?” To date, mine have not.

Evidently I’d been harboring eleven spatulas. Three springform pans. (Haven’t made a cheesecake since 1988.) But here was the real kicker: nine martini glasses and thirty-seven wine stems, and that’s not counting two full sets of crystal I inherited, laid to rest in two boxes I never open. At most, we’ll maybe sip wine every couple months. Never had a martini in my life; not interested.

Catch the irony? In a season when we have to trust God every day to meet our financial needs, our cups runneth over.

I sensed God winking, and a takeaway: Already I live in plenty and don’t even recognize it.

But is this the kind of abundance that satisfies? Is this the kind of more Jesus referred to?

Life Is “More than Food,” Our Bodies “More Than Clothes”

In God’s economy, living in want is gain when it helps shift our focus to things of lasting value. When it’s leveraged to refashion us, his broken vessels, to hold more of him.

And plenty isn’t a measurement; it’s a perspective. It’s anytime we have what we need for today. And, if we’re honest, we usually have more.

[bctt tweet=”Plenty isn’t a measurement; it’s a perspective. It’s anytime we have what we need for today. And, if we’re honest, we usually have more.” username=”KitTosello”]

True, unlike birds, we do have the capacity to worry, but we also have the ability to remember God’s faithful responses to our past needs. And for all my years of hand-wringing, when I look back I see he’s kept his word.

Today, if I have a pan and an egg and a spatula, I have plenty. When I rest assured my kids are under God’s attentive care (now that they’re not under mine), I have plenty; I can chill out, knowing they’ll have plenty too.

If I’m supplied and sustained to even a meager degree, I can attend to the good work of loving others in Jesus’ name. And that, today, is more than enough. In fact, it’s plenty.

In the end, I kept eight wine glasses and the springform pan that belonged to Garth’s Italian grandmother. I mean, you just never know when one of your offspring will rap on the door saying, “Mom, I want to bake you a cheesecake, but I need your help.” Right?

A girl can dream.

Consider this, friends: Today is your Someday, and if you’ve accepted the abundance of grace Jesus offers through his sacrifice on the Cross, you have every thing you need. And plenty more.

I’ve prayed for you today, confident that God will meet your every need. May you rest easy knowing you’ll be supplied, sustained, accompanied, and empowered. Whether today you slip on your dress shoes, work boots or flip-flops, you’ll lack no good thing anytime you step into his holy will (my paraphrase of Psalm 84:11).

Linking up today with #Coffee for Your Heart, #RaRalinkup