“I’m going to tell you a story…” begins the white-haired man seated next to me.
Oh no… here it goes… this one’s a talker. And not just a talker, a rambler. He has something to say and a captive audience for the first time in, what would seem to be, a while… Do I run? Can I hide? How do I move away without him noticing and/ or being rude? It’s impossible… So… I’m halfheartedly listening.
“When I was doing missions work in Nicaragua…”
Wait, what missions work? And just like that I was suckered in.
Let me back up. The last two weeks have been insane for me. I started interviewing for a new job, was hired at multiple places, shadowed at the different places, selected where I would go, accepted an offer of employment, put in my two weeks notice to a job that I’ve been at for almost five years, and started training at the new place of employment while completing my two weeks at my previous job. Amongst this I also have my modeling career and By Grace that are my priorities, and require the bulk of my mental energy and time.
In addition to all the craziness of quitting the old and starting the new, I have also been stressed about this career move because I will be making less money. Money which, in my mind, I need for By Grace to thrive. But I put all of that aside to go to my first day of training at the new gig.
This is where I met said white-haired man. First, I met his wife and she complimented my earrings. I mentioned to her that they were from Ghana, which led me to briefly explain that, yes I had indeed been to Ghana, and that By Grace was the reason for the visit. She quickly alerted her husband to the work we do through By Grace, and he started talking.
And we’re back, to me thinking that this man was going to delay my training, when in fact he was about to teach me something of much greater consequence than anything I could learn in an employee handbook.
He proceeded to tell me that he volunteers in Central America, and he had incredible story after incredible story. The one that hit home the hardest, however, was of an impoverished man living in Managua. This white-haired gentleman had struck up a conversation with the Nicaraguan, and although I don’t remember the details of the story (essentially the man was destitute and hopeless), the moral was: are you going to trust yourself and your community to provide for you or are you going to trust the Creator of the Heavens and the Earth? Are you going to rely on God to fulfill your needs and provide you with the necessary resources to succeed or are you going to lean on your own capabilities?
And just like that, I knew I had made the right decision. God is the provider. And no, that doesn’t mean every single dollar you need will be handed to you via a lottery win, and every task you need accomplished will not be completed by willing volunteers. Yet, God opens doors for the right jobs that provide income; He allows you to cross paths with the right people who can donate time, money, and advice.
I do believe that God helps those who help themselves, but for me, the simple fact that the man was talking about God my first night on the job affirmed that I am in the right place, and that I must learn to trust God more than I trust myself. He will be the key to my success, not me. Which is terrifying and comforting. For a control freak, it’s unfortunate that I am not in the driver seat. For an imperfect human, it is amazing that I can relinquish that control. So I am going to keep going through the doors that open, continue working hard, and trust that God will provide the necessary resources for His call on my life to be properly executed.
Until next time,