Daily bread and other lessons I'm learning

A (belated) April Recap

From museum art galleries to concert seats—April really spoke to me.

“How are you doing?”

Me: Internally debating if the other person wants a real answer. Weighing the pros and cons of how much to share. My pause is perhaps two beats too long as I cautiously start with: “Okay . . .”

Can you relate?

Here’s the deal: I am okay. (Most days.) I also have no idea what I’m doing. (Which—I’ve come to discover—describes basically all of us.)

Almost nothing went according to plan in April. I didn’t write as much as I thought I would. I didn’t land either of the promising full-time jobs I was interviewing for. I felt more tired and adrift than I could have possibly anticipated.

But . . . I also got to meet friends for long walks at the park. I threw a neighborly dinner party. I went to a concert on Good Friday and watched the sunrise on Easter morning. I broke bread with old friends—and strangers (who later felt like friends).

I had time to do things I don’t normally get to do: Like call a friend in the middle of a Tuesday morning just to catch-up. Or stroll through a library utterly un-rushed. I took my roommate to the airport in the middle of the day.

I got to say yes more often than I said no.

And in the middle of it all—the highs, the lows, the laughter, the tears—God was there. In the details. In unexpected ways. In the mundane.

He became my daily bread in April.

Give us this day our daily bread. –Matthew 6:11

Daily bread isn’t generally the phrase I linger on in the Lord’s Prayer. Not when it’s squished between so many other big things—God’s will (v.10) and forgiveness (v.12).

Why did Jesus think it important enough to include?

Then the Lord said to Moses, “Look, I’m going to rain down food from heaven for you. Each day the people can go out and pick up as much food as they need for that day. I will test them in this to see whether or not they will follow my instructions. –Exodus 16:4

It’s hard to talk about daily bread without also thinking about the manna God provided for the Israelites as they were making their way through the wilderness.

This food was their daily substance, and each household was responsible for going out every day to collect as much as their family would need. If they tried to hoard any extra portions—the food would rot overnight. (v. 19-20)

Which is to say: God wants us to rely on Him to meet our needs.

He wants to be the thing that sustains us. And that . . . is easier said than done.

But like the Israelites, I am learning what it looks like to trust God for my daily needs. Even when it doesn’t make sense. Even when (heck, especially when) it doesn’t feel easy.

I am not in control.
But I know the God who is.

I don’t even have much of a plan right now.
But I know the God who does.

I do not know what the future holds.
But I know the God who holds it.

And for right now . . . it’s enough.
Because I know the God who is enough.

Enough in every circumstance.
Enough in every need.
Enough for today, and tomorrow, and the next day.

And I guess that’s the point.
That’s Him being the daily bread.

Draft 3: Chapter 16/60

Or 26% for those of y’all who love math.

I still have a long ways to go—I’m anticipating about 60 chapters in this draft. (Give or take a few, since drafting never fully goes as planned. 🤣)

The progress has been slower than I would have liked but I’m excited to be getting back into my story and to see how this draft is shaping up. As the author, I’m encouraged because I finally feel like this draft is getting the story right.

The characters are developing more and more, the plot is tightening up. I know it won’t be perfect even when I finish this draft, but my book does feel so much more whole—and that’s exciting stuff.

For May’s Book Club, we decided to go with a YA book selection! We’re reading Powerless by Lauren Roberts. Want to read along? Here’s what this month’s book is about:

Some of the books I’ve been reading recently.

Only the extraordinary belong in the kingdom of Ilya—the exceptional, the empowered, the Elites. The powers these Elites have possessed for decades were graciously gifted to them by the Plague, though not all were fortunate enough to both survive the sickness and reap the reward. Those born Ordinary are just that—ordinary. And when the king decreed that all Ordinaries be banished to preserve his Elite society, lacking an ability suddenly became a crime—making Paedyn Gray a felon by fate and a thief by necessity.

Surviving in the slums as an Ordinary is no simple task, and Paedyn knows this better than most. Having been trained by her father to be keenly observant since she was a child, Paedyn poses as a Psychic in the crowded city, blending in with the Elites as best she can to stay alive and out of trouble . . . easier said than done.

When Paeydn unsuspectingly saves one of Ilya’s princes, she finds herself thrown into the Purging Trials. The brutal competition exists to showcase the Elites’ powers—the very thing Paedyn lacks. If the Trials and the opponents within them don’t kill her, the prince she’s fighting feelings for certainly will if he discovers what she is . . . completely Ordinary.

Home projects have taken a back seat lately (even though, ironically, this is the most time I’ve spent at home in a long time!).

The only real change has been the addition of a headboard for my room (I’ve been scrolling Facebook Marketplace for months trying to find the right thing, at the right price). I finally found it though!

A friend was kind enough to bring her truck and help me load and unload it—and after some vacuuming and upholstery cleaning it looks good as new.

My new-to-me headboard.

The parallels are not lost on me between what it takes to create a home and what it takes to write a novel.

Both require work, sacrifice, time, patience, a learning curve, faith, vision, and perseverance.

But friends, I’m learning that both endeavors are so worth the effort.

Until next month,
Rachel