Daily Bread // Chapter 9

Rent.

New shoes for their growing feet.

3 mattresses.

Bedding.

Groceries.

Shampoo.

Gas to fill the tank. 

Summer clothes after 4 years living on the North Sea coast. 

Cleaning supplies. 

The list went on and on and on. So many needs, stacked up like boulders to the sky. How on earth would we survive? 

I’d been a stay-at-home mom for 11 years. I’d been volunteering at church, raising my babies, and keeping our home. All such valuable ways to spend my days. But how do you convert that into a resume? I had no work experience. I had zero knowledge of computer systems. 

And worse, I had absolutely no confidence. 

I called my sister in tears one morning after staring at a blank screen for days. How would we make it? How would we pay the bills? How would we eat? How would we make the rent? I had to get a job, but where to start? 

My babies needed me. They were grieving the loss of their Dad, the new life we were forced into, their home and friends in Scotland. I felt like a mama hen, and all I wanted to do was tuck them under my wings and tend to their needs. They were afraid and vulnerable. They were full of big emotions and struggling to sleep at night. 

How on earth would I find a job that would allow me to care for them as they needed? 

My sister was full of encouragement. “Rachel, you are the total package–anyone would be blessed to have you on their team.”

I opened my computer and wrote those very words on my blank resume: 

Rachel Setliffe

The total package.

(As my sister says).

I laughed at the irony of it all. I mean, what else can you do but laugh? 

Deep breaths. 

Just keep breathing. That’s what you can do. 

Skills: breathing. 

Will that do?

I felt so weak. So pathetic. So useless. I had nothing in my hands. How would I manage all of this by myself? How would I take care of kids? Our new rented home? Myself? I was so unkind with my words and attitude towards myself. I remember calling myself stupid, foolish, spoiled, a burden, a waste of space, useless. 

All those feelings and labels that were born inside my marriage were still there, ready to smother me again.

My prayers were pretty short and desperate during those days. Lord, the girls need new shoes–please help. Lord, rent is due on Tuesday–please help. Lord, the girls asked to get pizza tonight because they are tired of PB&J sandwiches–please help. 

Please help. 

In time, I learned to be kinder to myself. I learned what it looked like to trust God and to rest in his provision. I started to see myself as a little mama bird with a baby under each wing, fragile and hungry–but knowing just where to go. I would tuck my girls in, and we would slowly hop along into the hand of God. He never shunned us for being so small and pitiful. He wasn’t cruel or withholding. He would just lower his hand and let us limp right into the shelter of his presence. I would look up to him and point at our meek and meager needs and just say, Please help.  

That little image of us as vulnerable little birds in the hand of Almighty God is one of the dearest treasures I carry. 

He was so tender towards us. His hand was a safe place for us to land. His daily bread was always there, just what we needed–no more and certainly no less. 

He fed us. 

He tended to our needs.

He bore the weight of it all. 

And it was a heavy weight to bear. 

But we always had enough. Exactly enough. 

Scratch that–it was usually more than enough, really. 

Friends came to visit and treated us to meals out. Gift cards arrived in the mail to buy a tank of gas. Groceries showed up on our doorstep multiple times. We found coupons for a free pizza. Our new church paid for our counseling sessions. We rediscovered the library and the treasure trove of free services on offer. We found a thrift store with half-priced Fridays. Random money would turn up in our mailbox–just enough to pay the electric bill. 

Every need met. 

Life felt so simple, and a sweetness settled over all of it. Living with daily bread, and daily bread alone, is truly satisfying. 

I look back on those days with such fondness now. I can see the kindness of the Lord in so many ways. 

The bills were stacked to the sky, but somehow, the provision of the Lord just always matched the needs. 

And the craziest part? As the money drained from my account to pay all the bills, every time I checked my bank account, the balance held steady. Money was going out each month, but the numbers stayed the same. The miraculous was happening every day–a show of God’s extravagant provision on display, just for little ‘ole me. 

I still can’t explain it. On paper, none of it makes sense. There was just always enough. Generous friends sending a financial gift. A refund on an overpaid bill. A small paycheck from a small graphic design project. The Lord worked it all out. 

Daily bread for daily needs.  It really is true. And it really is enough. 

He cares. He sees. He provides. He loves. He is enough. 

We are all just wee little birds in his mighty strong hands. Oh, for grace to see it, believe it and rest in it. 

But sadly, there was a parallel story running beside this precious story of provision. One where my needs were being miraculously met, yet my heart was plunging into an ocean of anger, bitterness and a desire for revenge. 

How these two realities could reside together makes my blood run cold. 

While the Lord perfectly met my needs, anger was surging within….

TO BE CONTINUED…

Missed the first eight chapters? Head back to the beginning to read Chapter 1: SHATTERED

**Maybe you are also in a place where you feel completely hopeless? While the writing of my story is going chapter by chapter, I would like to fast forward you today to the most glorious ending. Hopelessness doesn’t have the final say when Jesus steps into the story…