For Steve and me, it’s our mantra, our verbal response, our acknowledgement that we have witnessed direct provision in a given moment. We have uttered it upon locating a lost pacifier in the middle of the night, finding extra money in the budget, or receiving a positive response to a last-minute babysitting call. It’s all Jehovah Jireh.
It’s what escaped my lips after barrelling down the rickety basement-cellar steps to root out the soccer box containing old uniforms, socks, and shin guards.
Weeks ago, I had retrieved the bin of cleats and found a pair that fit Roo and one that fit Coco, our two soccer players this season. Jehovah Jireh!
As the girls rushed to prepare for their first practice tonight, something wasn’t right. After painstakingly locating and lacing and tying up soccer cleats, it was Coco who asked about shin guards (or maybe it was Roo).
Shin guards! But, of course. Shin guards! That’s why it was only slightly more difficult than too easy to get ready tonight, in the fifteen minutes we had to spare.
Oh God, be with me in this time of need. The day has been long, and the end is far off, still. Please help me to find the box with the shin guards.
I barreled down the basement-celler steps.
I knew they were in a box. A brown, brown, opaque box with Soccer Uniforms or something written on TOP. Not even on the SIDE where it would be easily seen if it were in a stack with other brown boxes. I remember scrawling it there on top once upon the end of a soccer season.
There it was. The beautiful brown box, resting solo on an old piano bench or whatever people like us keep in basement-cellers.
You know in Christmas Vacation when the Griswalds finally come to the tree? It was that moment for me.
That and Jehovah Jireh.