Right now, as I sit at my computer, I have a cluster of unknowns bouncing around inside my skull.
Will my daughter start school next week? Or will I need to home school for a while? (we’re on a list at a charter school)
How will my husband’s first review at work go?
How will “Paint Chips” sell?
Will a publisher even want to take on this second novel I’m writing?
Can I write a second novel? Third? Fourth? Oh, mercy.
Who is going to fold all this laundry?
And, for the love of humanity, what is for lunch???
It’s enough to send this girl into a swirly-twirly of anxiety.
So. What is known?
My daughter can read, tie her shoes, add, subtract, sing, dance, and love. She will be okay.
My husband works hard. He has integrity (more than most). He will do well.
I have the most loyal friends and readers. “Paint Chips” will be read. And that is far more important than if it sells.
Even if a publisher won’t take on my second novel, I’ll be okay. They might take the third. Or fourth.
Yes. I can write more novels. Because Christ gives me the strength. It is a mercy.
Who cares about the laundry. It will get done.
I have bread in the fridge, peanut butter and honey in the cupboard, and fresh tomatoes. We have never gone hungry in this home. And that, too, is a mercy.
And, over all of that which I know and don’t know, I have the assurance that I am held. I am loved. I am treasured by my Father who gives all of these good and perfect gifts.
Sometimes the best gifts are the ones you don’t see until it’s time to unwrap them.
Like Christmas every day.