Confession.

Let’s get cliche for a minute.  Ahhhh yes, the seasons of our lives.  It seems, practically speaking, I’ve been in the “riding on fumes” season for quite a while now.  But I have to say that it’s probably been a good thing. No – I know it has.  I’ve learned to trust God in greater ways than I ever thought possible – for me at least.  You hear the stories of people turning water into wine.  Or maybe you only heard that story once.  You know, the only time it actually happened?  But you get what I’m saying.  It’s possible.  Miracles and such.  God definitely provides.  He’s provided for me over the years consistently – usually exceeding my own trivial expectations. But there are those times when gold coins do not actually fall from the sky – or when your last three peas choose not to manifest themselves into steak and lobster.  And it is during those times that you may wish to employ more practical measures.

Observe:

Last year, right around the time my son was about to start kindergarten, it occurred to me I was broke.  I wasn’t particularly busted up about this since it had become a recurring theme in my life.  But in this particular instance, it did warrant understandable amounts of angst.  In addition to the many school supplies I had not yet purchased for my son – I still had not acquired any of the necessary school uniform items he needed in order to attend.  So of course I began to cry and feel sorry for myself – immediately allowing my mind to travel to the deepest, darkest, and most self-depricating trenches that existed within it.  However, while it is strangely satisfying to occasionally indulge yourself in a classic pity party, I knew this would not render any practical solution.

It then occurred to me that there was something I could do to which I cringed inwardly at the thought of.  My eyes quickly darted to the only thing I owned that had any sort of marketable value.  My guitar.  And yes, you’ve guessed it – I took that damn guitar down to the music shop and hawked it off so I could buy school clothes for my son.  A mother’s love knows no bounds.  Shameful as it may be.

Nevertheless, I can laugh about it now.  The thought of resorting to such a desperate measure as selling off personal items to provide for your family is not pleasant.  But – there is something to be said about the lengths we’ll go to and sacrifices we make for the people we love.  Even if it means hawking something.

Liberated from the shame.

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