As I sit here, Christmas has quietly and quickly approached.
All month, my prayer has been simple: make Jesus the center.
I bought a small children’s book that tells the story of the very first, most precious Christmas, with gentle illustrations meant for learning and teaching. It has become a way for my daughter and me to open and close our days with excitement about Jesus. Not perfection. Just presence.
I’ve slowly gathered gifts. There’s a small pile now.
There are still a couple things I could have gotten but my trips to town have been minimal, and honestly, my budget is thankful for that limitation.
When the Lights Went Out, Everything Became Clear
Then the Midwest reminded us who’s in charge.
A record-setting windstorm swept through, and my sister’s ranch is still partially without power. A few friends are, too. We spent forty hours without electricity. And somehow… our dark little cabin held us well.
Along with a small generator that kept the fridge cool and a couple lights on. We had heat. Water. A stovetop. A quick hot shower from a tank that had just enough warmth left in it. It was cozy.
And there I was – playing Barbies in a dim, warm cabin – quietly realizing something:
I didn’t need anything.
I didn’t need to “finish shopping.”
I didn’t need the things I’d scrolled past or clicked on all month.
I didn’t need more.
The Availability of Abundance Is Not an Excuse
That moment brought back a conversation I’d had with a friend the week before – about over-consumerism.
And wow.
It hit me square in the face.
The blessing of abundance… but maybe not the kind of abundance God actually wants to bless us with.
Over-abundance in our world has bred over-consumption, over-spending, over-stimulation. Allowing the enemy to place literal things between us and the true contentment God provides.
Even After Letting Go, I Still Had Too Much
At the beginning of this year, I made a soft personal goal: get rid of one thing a day. Nothing dramatic triggered it. I just started.
Boxes and boxes left our home. Weekly trips to town often included thrift store drop-offs.
And yet… here I sit. Still with too much.
Three ways to make coffee.
Two ways to make tea.
Three ways to make popcorn.
Three weeks’ worth of socks.
Eighteen cookbooks.
A fridge and freezers full of food.
A dozen warm quilts.
Seasonal clothing.
Living in a tiny house.
And I’m still filling donation boxes.
Where does it all come from?
It’s here that I feel led to declare something clearly:
The availability of abundance is not an excuse.
If I can’t buy it secondhand, I probably don’t need it.
Zooming Out: What True Wealth Actually Looks Like
That dangling carrot – the availability of abundance – keeps us inching along instead of zooming out to see the bigger picture. There are bigger fish to fry. More important things that help us sustain, maintain, and build true wealth – the kind that settles in your soul instead of cluttering your shelves.
My husband and I have done some things well.
We automated investments.
We paid off our mortgage, a huge accomplishment that has brought gratitude and stress-free decision-making.
But other things, things that could be automated, have been de-prioritized to cover cost-of-living choices. And when I zoom out, I can see it clearly: some of those bigger goals could already be funded if we had intentionally adjusted our lifestyle, even slightly.
I can easily comb through my daily, weekly, and monthly choices and see where abundance leaks out instead of being stewarded into true wealth.
When Abundance Distracts Us from God
This week I found myself thinking:
No wonder God hasn’t fully taken hold of my life – I have too much stuff.
And honestly? In many ways, it’s true.
For all of us, it might not be literal things. It might be one big thing. An addiction. A payment. A justification that keeps us inching along on the path God has us on instead of taking the leaps and bounds He’s offering.
Presence Is the Hardest Thing for Me Right Now
In this past season, I did take those leaps. I kept my eyes on God, asking Him to place before me what would advance His plan. Both for me, and for my newly published journal.
But the moment I slowed down to focus on Christmas, it felt like everything that was there before rushed back in – pulling my attention and intention away from God and His plan.
Home hasn’t felt especially peaceful lately.
Growth and creativity haven’t felt held here in a while.
I’ve been good at escaping. At taking big actions toward growth and abundance. But when I come back and kick the dust off my boots, I often find myself still sitting in discontentment. Challenged by it, yet paralyzed by it.
And distracted from simply playing Barbies with my three-year-old.
Where Is the Line Between Provision and Self-Reliance?
“The work will always be there,” a colleague once told me.
That’s why my lists matter(I teach this in my Identity-Based Planning method) they anchor me when I spiral.
But presence? That’s my current and constant struggle.
The words I want to write.
The impact I want to make.
The glory I want to give God & the credit I sometimes struggle to give Him.
The truth is this:
The availability of true abundance through Christ is often held back by us.
By our free will. By our choices. By not choosing Him first.
A phrase comes to mind: “Two is one, one is none.”
But that doesn’t leave room for God’s provision—it leans toward self-reliance.
So where’s the balance?
It’s not in “it was on sale, so I might as well get two.”
It’s in knowing God provides and that we are called to steward well.
All resources.
All availability.
Filtered through God, not through us.
And still, no one is perfect.
I ask myself these questions with humility, grateful you’re reading along in my friendly, imperfect banter.
Cataloging Our Abundance Keeps Us Anchored
We have so much.
But what of it is truly a gift?
What keeps giving?
What grows the investment you’ve already made?
What creates space for action, connection, and clarity – not because the answers are right or wrong, but because they are yours on the path you’re walking?
We have so much.
Moses cataloged it for the people. He reminded them often—especially when they strayed. He brought them back to center. He interceded on their behalf.
Cataloging our abundance is one way to remember it.
When we keep our blessings and accomplishments as anchors (in our minds or in a journal) we are less likely to need a new “thing” to replace them. We don’t need more to move forward. We need ourselves, our anchors… not to keep us from moving, but to keep us from being blown around by every little breeze.
When Backup Plans Cost More Than We Expect
“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
But we can maintain it, so it lasts.
This year, I felt the very real penalty of an “availability of abundance” mindset firsthand. My car engine blew up – part negligence, part faulty repair, part subconscious reliance on the fact that I had a backup car.
Seven months later, I’m still driving my old car. The broken one sits in pieces. Savings drained. Opportunities missed.
I’m content but also aware of the cost of not stewarding what I had with care.
Over-consumption started young for many of us. And while it’s grown worse, it hasn’t always been this way. Not long ago, things were built to last. People had one of something. Rainy day funds. Twenty-year-old cars.
So where do we anchor now?
Anchoring Into What We Already Have
How do we live rooted in what we already have – making room for Christ-like abundance – while still being comfortable here and now?
I believe it starts within.
Then it flows into our surroundings.
Our relationships.
Our personal narrative.
Anchors that move us from lack to abundance.
Grounded beliefs. Aligned actions.
A way of living that we may not be able to fully explain but can point to with gratitude when true abundance shows up.
So friend, go out – declare, maintain and catalog your abundance. Because, trust me, it’s already there. And once you notice it it has a funny way of reminding you.
