You know that little voice in your head that prompts you to do things? Sometimes, it’s hard to know what’s Spirit and what is flesh. For many months now, I keep hearing “Write.”
I, of course, ask a zillion questions about what to write.
If I am just to start writing, I might as well start with the lesson I’ve learned from owning a Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer.
I am a little weary tonight. Today, I spent hours cataloging items to post for sale on Facebook and Kijiji. I am thankful to God, that I have made quite a few sales. He is always good!
Shortly before 8 pm, I was pacing back and forth in my living room. My 3 year old was already in bed. My 17 month old was still up.
I held him on my hip. The sun was setting. We both stared out the back window at the yard, and the park, and the street beyond.
I was not looking forward to this last transaction. I was fighting second thoughts as well as the temptation to give into self-pity. After planting a long kiss on my little guy’s cheek, I said to him,
“I don’t want you to ever think that we are anything other than rich.“
Compared to billions of other people on this planet, we are very rich indeed!
I was trying to convince myself of this because it felt like the opposite. Let’s just say that I haven’t been selling things for extra spending money. As my husband and I are getting serious about extracating ourselves from this debt, it seemed like an appropriate time to sell the Kitchen Aid mixer.
The “we are rich” mantra helped me get through the exchange. I sold it for less than I wanted. I wanted to not sell it at all.
The lady who came to collect it eyed me up and down like I might be conning her. She seemed incredulous that nothing could be wrong with the mixer.
“Just accept that you got a colossal deal and get out my house,” is what I wanted to say.
Baby on my hip, cash in hand, I closed the door after she left. Despite myself, tears came. My flesh was entreating me to sit down and feel sorry for myself for awhile.
“Should I not feel like crap that it has come to this?!“
For a moment, I entertained the idea of giving into that dull feeling in my stomach. Then I looked into my youngest’s sweet and honest face. He looked at me with such innocence that it pierced through all my pretension.
How could I feel bad about what had just happened?
How many women out there have had to resort to selling their actual child (no less sweeter or precious than mine) in exchange for money or food?
That is what real lack looks like.
I am blessed beyond measure that I had an appliance I could sell used for $150. How many mothers out there have handed over their young to a stranger for less money than I received for that mixer?!
I do not actually have a statistic to insert here, but let’s be honest. Any number above zero is obscene. This thought sobered me instantly.
“We are rich.” I said again.
Now that I could put my baby to bed, I rocked him in the most comfortable chair in the world. Looking at my youngest boy, I felt a peace. I knew I had done the right thing.
There is not a single doubt in my mind that my Abba God cares about our cares. He values the most trivial things that matter to us. This almost made me cancel the sale tonight.
I equally know that God doesn’t want us to put too high of a value on our possessions; for where our treasure is, there our heart is also.
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