before it gets better

when i hear these words, my heart sinks in recognition of how true they are.
 
yes, things will get worse before they get better, i know this.
 
worse than three and a quarter years of unemployment, what could be worse?
 
losing renters in our rental property due to their job loss for starters.
 
myriad repairs to said property, two.
 
this must mean it is going to get better, and that gives me hope.
 
as i sat, in stunned silence, digesting the news of our latest blessing in diguise, i could feel myself at yet another crossroads.
 
i could choose to stress out, and essentially worry and fret about two mortgages to pay on no income.
 
or i could trust.
 
trust in a God who has bigger designs than my comfort. trust in a God who is forging a way, where there is no way. trust in a God who has a plan of goodness for my life. trust in a God who is love. 
 
my attitude has been horrendous.
 
i battle depression whose claw closes tighter and tighter around my throat, until i retreat to my stimulant of choice, the tele.
 
when i get so overwhelmed by my circumstances, flipping one little switch can often give me a bird’s eye view into the life of some wretched soul worse off than i. (the tv can have some redeeming qualities.)
 
that wretched soul happened to live in ethiopia.
 
i caught a special called “surviving hunger.” it irritated me that a large (american-sized) reporter lived and ATE with these starving ethiopians, and didn’t contribute anything to alleviate their plight, rather, he rested on their largesse. he ate of their scant resources, all the while filming, complaining, and languishing in front of the camera. oh, please!
 
that kind of reporting sickens me. i tried to block out the reporter, who went to a gathering of the community. this man was true ebony, dark as night. some members of the community wailed at the sight of him. not because of his colour, no, because of his size. they had never seen someone so large, they were frightened.
 
their men, their community members, were gaunt, tall, and sat upon their bent bony legs. they worked all day in the hot sun, fueled by very little. wild cabbage mostly (akin to dandelion or mustard greens—not at all the fat, plump, cabbage we know and take for granted in the States). yet they smiled, worked, and never complained.
 
finally, the reporter asked the father if he liked eating the wild cabbage.
 
he said, no. it makes my stomache hurt, but why complain, it is all we have?
 
the father told the story of his sister who could not find food so she went to town, and eventually laid down and died of hunger.
 
the ethiopians live each day by the food they raise, scant though it may be, wild cabbages, and woefully short government rations. according to the film, each ethiopian is alloted some 25 kilos of grain per day. the reporter showed a family who had just received their rations and they had only received enough for one person for approximately two days.
 
the government food isn’t reaching the people. the reporter asked a distribution center why it was not being doled out according to the standards, and the worker said, the government says this is all we can hand out. (i bet the members of the government aren’t starving and feeding their children wild cabbages)
 
the reporter at one point said he was so hungry, he would take food from the baby, and he tried to coax the smiling child to give him some of the last precious grain. but she did not. good for her. he had plenty of fat to burn, it would be a long time before he starved to death.
 
this all helps to remind me that no matter how bad it gets, there are souls worse off. i think God must feel a great swell of pity for americans who think they have it so rough. as i sit, eating food in my air conditioned single-family home on one acre of peaceful and free soil, my heart and mind goes to the ethiopians. my heart aches for those parents who labor long hours under the hot sun for something to feed their children. i long for the day when i can make a difference.
 
in ethiopia, they die of hunger.
 
in america, we die of excess.
 
think about it. heart diseases and diabetes come from our overindulgence. scorrosis from excess alcohol. lung cancer, emphysema, from smoking, itself an excess. many of our ailments, i am sure, could be traced to pure and simple excess.
 
with my attitude adjusted sufficiently, i will walk this road of trust, knowing there is a God who sees my plight, but also has His eye upon the ethiopian child and parent. His eye is upon the muslim son who is considering blowing himself to smithereens to secure a better place in life for his family. His eye is upon the Somali woman, mutilated by her culture and left frightened. His eye is upon all.
 
i can trust this God. and He can redeem us all.