#already enough

And I rewrote it.

My new story goes like this: I am a person who is innately lovable, who is inherently acceptable, and who deeply belongs to myself and therefore to the world. I am enough, just as I am.

Already Enough by Lisa Olivera

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Many of us live in abundance, though we do not see it that way. 

We have books on our shelves to learn from, but we crave new titles, new storylines.

We have clothes to wear, but we wish for others styles, other colors.

We have food to eat, but we wish for a change of pace or a new dish with flavors we haven't tasted yet.

We do not see our abundance because we have not learned how to be content with what we already have.  We do not use or appreciate what we have fully because we can't sit still.  We can't sit in the place we have been given, looking around with thankfulness, because we are itchy with discontent or envy or unfilled longings.

We can't sit still in thankfulness because we are hurried and harried and we don't even know HOW to sit still anymore.  We rush from thing to thing, flavor to flavor, consuming all without lingering long enough to fully taste.  We taste one bite, then speed through all the others.  We skate along the surface but we do not dive in.  We pass by our blessings without even seeing them.

What if we moved more slowly?  What if we came to our dinner table and we ate slowly and we paused to look at one another and to do it directly so that we could actually hear what the people around us are saying?  So that our eyes could fully see the child before us, the precious life, in this very moment, before the moment is gone?  Before the child is grown and no longer at this table?

What if we do not even come to this table?  What if we stand in our kitchens munching our food, leaning over the sink, or against the microwave, because eating is a task that must be accomplished before we go on to our next activity?

Where is the seeing?  Where is the waiting?  Where is the moment in which to rest and think and listen?

Without these moments, it is hard to know where we are.  We are always living for the next moment, never being fully present in this one.  We overlook what we have.  We overlook one another. 

Our ears are saturated with noise but we do not hear.

Our homes are saturated with things but our hearts are not content.

Our bellies are full of food but our bodies are not at rest.

This is not how I want to live-rushed and blunted and discontent.

Some days, even though my household needs food, the grocery store is too much. Too many choices, too many things to weigh and measure and count and debate about. Hot or cold cereal? Organic eggs or cage-free eggs? Milk, free of hormones, or milk at half that price with potential hormones in it? The choices and decisions made in one trip to the grocery store can number in the thousands. I do not go and choose one kind of bread. I must weigh making my own, choosing whole wheat or white, real bread or bread filled with preservatives. Bread that is thin and tasteless but containing fewer calories. Real bread made from recognizable ingredients with seeds that toast to perfection for my morning breakfast. The grocery store can be exhausting. The grocery store seems full of too much.

Other days, the laundry seems like too much. Too many loads to do, too many loads to fold, too many clothes to stack on small, crowded shelves. While the task of actually washing and drying the laundry with automatic washers and dryers is not that daunting, compared to the washtubs and wringers of old, still, the amount and depth and breadth of the laundry of today can be overwhelming. Four of five loads each day, for my family of six.

My great grandmothers had one best dress and one second best dress. They had several work dresses, and aprons to cover and change as the day's work went on. They washed these things once a week. They had no trouble choosing their clothes in the morning, because if it was a day to work, they chose a work dress. If it was a day to attend church, they put on their best dress. Here again, my problem with laundry may come from having too many clothes to choose from. Too many clothes to clean and sort.

While this is not a call to rid my closet of all but one best dress, the metaphor of the clothing on my shelves, causes me to think in two directions. The first direction is good and reminds me that my life is full of many good things. I do have more than one best dress. I am able to feed my children fresh fruits and vegetables every day. I can plan my meals based on what sounds good to eat. I have much to be thankful for, and so I give God praise for all that he has brought into my life.

The second direction, the second understanding that comes when I view the shelves of abundant clothing, is the knowledge that the world of too much can be a burdensome place. Too many choices overwhelm my ability to make a simple decision. Too many things to desire and consume encourages me to live by appetite rather than by need. The world of too much tells me to gather and store and hoard and use my time to continue all this gathering so that I may get the best deal, so that I won't miss out, so that I can have all that this physical world has to offer.

The world of too much tempts me to believe that having choices, many of them, is my right. I should be able to choose what I like to eat. I should be able to have any scarf that suits my fancy. I should be able to have five breakfast choices rather than one. These are my rights, and if I am not given these rights, I pout and moan and complain. I enter a life of self-focus (and dissatisfaction!) where I try to satisfy my appetites with all those lovely choices.

This week, snowed in and forced to stay home, I thought again of this idea of too much. How lovely it was to make the meals solely from what I had on hand! No last minute running to the store for one forgotten ingredient. No green onions for the quiche? Use onion powder. No white flour for the scones? Make whole wheat ones. As the week went on, and my choices grew simpler and simpler, the joy of using what I had, increased.

On the last day, before the roads cleared enough for me to go to the store, I made oven baked fries. They used up the last of the potatoes and they were coated with olive oil and pepper and salt and Italian seasoning, and while they roasted in the oven, the whole house smelled spicy. When I took them out and served them with several leaves of the last bit of lettuce and the last bit of carrot, I felt that we were feasting. And we were. We had enough for this day. (And how completely satisfying it was in every way!) Tomorrow, the Lord would bring more. It was a feast and we were thankful.

Thankfulness. Thankfulness is the key, I think. It means viewing what I have, whether much or few, with the gratefulness of a child who has been given a good gift by a loving father. Thankfulness says, "I know you provided this, God, so I will enjoy it and remember your love for me in it."

Thankfulness is not afraid. It does not hoard. It does not fear, on a day when the choices seem limited, that tomorrow that same loving Father will have forgotten to feed his child. The Lord never forgets. He is always faithful. And like Paul, I see the need to give praise and be content, whether well fed or hungry, whether in plenty or in want. The need to praise is there because my praise is not about the things--it is about the Father who lovingly provides all those good things.

I remember this and try to stay in the thankful place. In that place, the laundry is not too much. It is becomes an act of praise. The folding of clothes and the remembering of how those clothes came to us at just the needful moment, becomes an act of praise. The making of food, sufficient for this day, becomes an act of praise.

I glory in the Father, and as my praise spills forth, the unreal world of too much falls by the way, quieted and stilled before him. I am with him in his kingdom. I give thanks. I feast. I am satisfied completely with the never ending abundance of God's own presence.

It is the Father himself we can glory in.

A few months ago, I prayed a desperate prayer.  It was not a new prayer, though my desperation was vividly fresh.  This prayer had been the cry of my heart for several years.  "Please Lord, bring freedom to this place in my life where I have always been bound by false thinking and fear," I prayed.  I wanted freedom and new life in this old, dead place.  So, again, I asked for it. 

Quietly, lovingly, the Lord responded. "When you prayed this prayer the first time, did you not believe that I had answered it?  When Daniel prayed for the nation of Israel, I answered him from the first moment also.  I sent my angels to do battle for the nation, and though the battle took a while, Daniel's prayer received an immediate answer.  I have answered your prayer also.  What you need has already been sent."

Then, in the same beautiful, corrective way, the Lord showed me that although his answer was already present, I was stumbling around in unbelief.  I didn't believe he had acted.  I didn't believe there was anything to receive.  I was a person blinded to the gift already sent and present before me. 

"Step out in faith.  Walk through the wall of fear and you will find that beyond that first fearful step, is the freedom I have sent you.  Trust me.  Believe in me. I am present.  My resources have already been given to you if you will only step out into the place where I am."

His words were quietly shattering.  They were true and my spirit knew them to be true.  How could I have not known this before?  Fear, perhaps.  Unbelief, certainly.  Both blinding me to the work that God had already done on my behalf!  What a terrible fog is the place of unbelief!

If I am His child (oh the beautiful grace that make this so!) and if God is with me (and He is!) then all the resources of the universe that are present in Him are available to me.  They are available to me, and to all His children, because he has lovingly chosen to make them available.  Jesus said, "I take from what the Father has given to me, and I share it with you."  Later, Jesus promised that when He left this earth, He would not leave us as orphans.  His Holy Spirit would come and that Spirit would "take from what is mine, and give it to you.  He will remind you of everything that I have said."

Is God not powerful enough to bring freedom to a place of bondage?  He is powerful enough.  He is loving enough. 

Is His ear too dull to hear my cry? His ear is sharp and His eyes are attentive to those whose hearts belong to him.

 Are His arms too short to save?  They are never too short. 

Can anything thwart what God has intended to do?  Not one thing can thwart the plans of the Almighty God.

So I pray in faith.  I break through fear and every false thing that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and I walk that first step.  I walk and my eyes are unveiled to the presence of Him who answers His people.  I see Him.  I see His answer.  He is already present.  He has always been present.

Isaiah 59:1  "Surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save, nor his ear too dull to hear."

1 Samuel 14:6  "Nothing can hinder the Lord from saving, whether by many or by few."