Grammie to the Rescue

Fun and interesting day here at Camp W. I'll start at the beginning...

Frank and I have been feeling a bit overwhelmed with the house-sized debt that now looms over us (thanks, law school) and we've been handling that stress in a not-so-great-or-faithful fashion. BUT, we do know that we're doing it wrong and we are working hard to do it right, so at least there is that. Pastor King seemed to have gotten the memo from the Big Guy and delivered a sermon that shot straight into our hearts and minds (thanks, Big Guy).

As we emerged from the weekend of money-stress, feeling hopeful and much more faithful, our nanny quit. <insert sound of schreeching tires> Well, quit is a strong word that implies that she didn't like us or vice versa, which isn't true. Her family is simply going through a rough patch and it became clear that she needed to go back to work full-time as a nurse to help out more with finances. Bummer for all involved.

This makes me think back to the handful of times that our housing situation has been a big giant question mark, back to the handful of times when I oh-so-fabulously-failed at trusting in my God to provide for us in a way well beyond my hopes, dreams, or prayers. I don't like to remember those lessons because usually when I'm thinking about those lessons it is because I'm learning them AGAIN. Well, guess what - it is Monday and my nanny just quit.

I will admit that I have been a little panicy all day. I've resorted to brainstorming ways to fix this all by myself, like winning the lottery, starting a buisness that requires no capital, running away to live as a subsistance farmer (wait, that was Frank's plan and I didn't like the sound of "farming"). I have also had moments of ernest and honest prayer.

Lord, I know that you will provide for us but sometimes I panic anyway. Please take away my panic, take away my need to panic, and take away the incessant need for me to try to fix everything when I know darn well that only you can fix everything.

I do think He used my panic a little though - after getting the word from our nanny (whom I'm really going to miss, we were all starting to really love her) I called my husband in as calm a way as I know how and told him what was up and that my inclination was to call my mom. Hi, I'm 8 years old.

No really! I happened to know that my mom was both willing and able to come to our rescue this week, so I sent up the Grammie signal (this is a complicated procedure wherein I call her house, wait for the machine to pick up, then start talking to her because there is a 75% chance she is home and just didn't answer before the machine got it).

So, it is Grammie to the Rescue tonight! And I even remembered to thank all of the right people for being able to make that call (Grammie, Paco, and the Big Guy).

Little Man doesn't know it, and wouldn't even if I told him 100 times, but he is in for some awesome Grammie-time! Even in the midst of this chaos, I know we are being blessed