On Election Day 2010, you would have found me around 5:45 p.m. barreling down the surface streets near my house, desperately trying to get to my babysitter. Traffic was tricky, no matter what route I chose.
To get my mind off of how late I was going to be picking up my little sweet pea, I switched on a podcast. It was a financial program I adore and usually, the sounds of the show filled me with hope and excitement since I am a budgeting nerd.
On this day, however, the show just made me anxious. The caller was in an enviable position—more than $300,000 in the bank. My mind immediately thought of my own family’s savings goals. We were nowhere near that number (can I repeat that? Nowhere near that number!). A wave of doubt and fear washed over me. I could almost feel my brain sloshing this way and that, plotting and scheming to get more money, a better job, something.
I switched off the podcast.
It wasn’t because the show depressed me or failed to motivate me. No, I switched off the show because Jesus and I needed to talk. Almost like a call coming in on a cell phone, my sweet Lord was calling. I needed to pick up.
I spent the rest of the ride cuddled up (with one eye on the road) in Jesus’ arms. I reminded him of our family’s financial dreams. I mentioned that I didn’t want to be obsessed with money, but that I did want to be a good steward of the resources we were given. I was flooded with gratefulness for the blessings showered on us daily. As is my custom, I suggested a few ways that God could meet our needs, both financially and professionally. That’s our little “in joke”—I am forever making helpful suggestions to the Creator of the Universe.
As I finished the drive and pulled up in front of my sitter’s house, a peaceful calm had settled over the Subaru. I said goodbye to Jesus and turned my attention to my earthly family. But in my heart, where anxiety and peace battle for floor space, a restful evening had already begun. I had turned my heart toward the One who calls me his own.