The Other Shoe

My cousin recently posted on Facebook how, when she wants to set a particular tone for what she is writing, she’ll pick a song that fits and listen to it on repeat. It resonated with me immediately because while I am the same way, I usually end up going back to the same song over and over again; ‘Rainsong’ by George Winston. It can set the tone for everything I write, especially here on this blog. It relaxes me, helps words and thoughts flow, and it never gets old. It’s only when I listen to it while writing that I think to myself, “I ought to listen to this more often. When I am upset and need to calm down, when I am anxious and ready to be back in Tempe. When I am frustrated with finances and worry about what the future will bring.” Music helps me so much in that way – happy music makes me feel on top of the world and music for any other emotion is like a sympathizing friend or a friend who brings reason and calm to an overwhelmed me. 

Recently, though, I’ve realized that I far too often seek help from sources other than God. Music, videos on YouTube, funny pins on Pinterest have been my go-to for when I need a pick me up for a long time. I ought to be seeking God when things go wrong – reading His word and finding resolution in Him, not e-cards and Brian Regan’s comedy routines. It’s all there, how to get through rough times, how to wait, be wise, be anxious for nothing. God clearly maps out for us what to do in pretty much every situation we’re ever going to face, and yet, I don’t seek that out. I could blame it on the fact that I have a King James Bible, so reading is hard to understand and little to no fun (and believe me, I use that excuse a lot), but the words of God in any version I choose are right at my fingertips and yet…nothing.

Most recently, I experienced this shortfall on Monday in the form of financial aid for next year. I had spoken with the financial aid office three times over the course of the day, and each time, the person I spoke to told me cost of attendance would be about ten grand a semester. The problem with that was I was only receiving just over what they were saying it would cost me. For a girl who comes from a very economically disadvantaged family, that news was devastating. My refund checks were what got me through last year and those stood at a little more than a grand. One thousand dollars, stretched over five months. What on earth was I going to do when it looked as though my refund check was going to be about $19? Sure, working this summer would provide me with some funds, but it definitely wouldn’t carry me through the school year. Then, there was the matter of where I’m supposed to be living next year – in a house with girls from my church. No way, Jose, was I going to be able to pull that off. I wouldn’t even be able to afford to live on campus. To say that I was stressed would be a severe understatement. In the midst of all this, I had to go to work. On the drive there, I did listen to worship music and I told God that I trusted Him, because I did and I do. But I could not keep myself together. An hour later, I was on my way home with someone else coming in to cover my shift because I couldn’t stop crying. It would’ve been different if just one person had told me what my cost of attendance would be. I could’ve thought, “Oh, they’ve just got something wrong. That number can’t be right.” But for three people to tell me seemed like the clincher. When I got home, my despair had mostly turned to anger and I spent the rest of the night fuming. Posting angry things on Facebook, snapping at people, wishing I could just go to sleep and not have to deal with any of these stresses, ever. What I should have done was run to God, and I didn’t. Yes, I prayed for Him to come through financially and reached out to friends for prayer, but I didn’t see what He had to say about the subject. I find myself doing this often. I don’t read my Bible in times of trouble (in fact, I hardly ever read it at all. That has to change.) and so I find myself lost. It’s only after the fact that I’ll find something or someone will send me a verse that pertains to my situation and I think, “Oh, if only I’d had that in the midst of panic and despair.” I could have it, if I just bothered to look. I did look at something – cost of attendance calculators, budget worksheets, tuition and fees, etc. I thought that the people from financial aid couldn’t be right, the numbers just weren’t adding up. It occurred to me, finally, that everyone I spoke to must have given me an estimation based on the thought that I would be living on campus next year. That’s the only thing that made sense. I felt relieved, but I still felt like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. I didn’t want to say anything, think anything, believe anything would be alright until I had called student accounts the next morning to find out exactly what I would be billed for the next year, cost of attendance wise. The lady I spoke to on the phone was the first person to ask me if I was living on campus next year and, once I said no, informed me that it was going to cost me 10 grand a year for tuition and fees. “That doesn’t include books, supplies, and other things,” she said, but I didn’t care. Those things weren’t a hassle last year, they won’t be this year. I felt freer, lighter, and I profusely thanked God for his interceding on my behalf. 

And yet, I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m still, in the bottom of my heart, waiting. I trust God and in His plan for my life, but I almost can’t believe that it’s working out so well. I feel as though someone is going to come along and pull the rug right out from underneath me, say, “Just kidding, you’re not going to be able to afford to live in a house next year. You’re going to be weighed down with financial burdens, maybe have to get two jobs this summer and live at home next year.” And so, I’m conflicted. I feel like, even though I do trust God in all of this, having the fear that it’s all going to go south is not having trust. But at the same time, I think, “Well, if the other shoe does fall, you have to be prepared. You can’t get your hopes up that everything is working out because it never actually does. There’s always a catch, always a ‘but’, always a hurt.” I want to believe that that thought is a lie, that everything can work out. I’m acting like it can, but believing it can’t and I don’t know which to give into. If I act and believe everything will work out just fine, I – and others – find myself to be too flighty, irresponsible, not living in reality. But if I believe that it won’t work out, then I’m pessimistic, not trustful of God.

So where do I stand? That is my question. Can I believe without trusting, can I trust without believing? Or must they always go hand in hand? Am I afraid of the other shoe dropping? Yes. But I can’t live every day in fear, I know that for sure.