I cried at work today. And were it not for the lights and computer screens and overall commotion of a newsroom, people probably would have noticed.
I should tell you that I see and learn of tragic things on a daily–no, hourly–basis. I have every reason to break down in tears when I’m not just surrounded by a broken world, but sought out by it, when it’s my job to find the hurt and press those bruises of our world as hard as I can without breaking skin.
But I don’t cry at work when sad things happen. Sometimes, I cry at home. Or on the metro. Or months later when the compartments I’ve made and carefully divided start to spill over into one another.
Today I cried at work, and it wasn’t because of a tragedy. Praise the Lord, it wasn’t because of another shooting. It was because of the beauty of God providing.
Let me explain–support raising has been hard. It’s hard in ways that you don’t understand until you’re in the thick of it, talking about thousands of dollars that “need” to come in and you have no idea how. In the past few weeks, I’ve started to feel the toll of support raising and the pressure of being funded before launch, because I just didn’t trust God to handle it via an international calling plan and infrequent wifi. And I kept telling myself, “Wait on the Lord. Trust in the Lord.”
Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; Wait for the LORD! —PSALM 27:14
That’s easier said than done…But today I headed over to my blog, intent on just clicking through to read my squadmates’ words and reflections of Training Camp, and the number I saw jumped out at me. I logged in and sitting in my account was a $400 donation from an anonymous donor.
And yes, I was brought to tears. Just the other day in church, I was thinking about what we have to give–time, kindness, the $10 bill burning a hole in my pocket. I was thinking about all the wonderful people who have donated $1 or $3 to this journey, and how those small gifts stir up an appreciation in me that those supporters may not even realize. I spent some time thinking about how I love when people pray for me and follow my journey, even if they can’t contribute financially. I churned that idea in my mind over and over, wondering if they know that they are as much a part of this as my most generous financial donors, that I appreciate them and am so excited to bring them along on this journey however I can.
It was when my mind was flooded with these little morsels of giving that the enemy tried to tell me those aren’t enough, that I wouldn’t get funded this way, and that it was a dollar amount that mattered.
That’s not what matters. I refused to believe those lies. What matters is telling people about the role I get to play in His story. What matters is leaning into the Lord when the task ahead seems impossible. What matters is those moments of sweet assurance, when He provides outside the bounds of your imagination, outside the bounds of your knowledge.
I have no idea who that donor was–if I sent them a letter, or called them, or they followed me on Instagram. I have no choice but to thank the One who is worth of thanks, worthy of praise, and Provider of it all.
P.S. If you’d like to be praying for me or learn more about what it looks like to join my support team, feel free to comment or reach out via email at [email protected]
