Provision

I looked at Billy Bob Junior.
That is the name of the chef that sits on my kitchen counter.
He is the chef with a chalkboard in his hands.
The chalkboard told my family what we were having for dinner each night.

With five children and a husband, I was asked the question six times.
What are we having for dinner?
I love questions but there had to be an easier way.
It was in the window of a store that I never shopped in before that I found him.

I wasn’t even looking for him.
There he was, holding his chalkboard out as if to extend an invitation.
I went into the store and they removed him from the window.
The price was right; the problem was solved.

I put him on the counter to the left of the kitchen sink.
I couldn’t wait to see my children’s reaction as they came home from school.
I knew that they would see him as soon as they came into the kitchen.
That night’s dinner selection was prominently displayed.

If it was a busy morning, and I happened to forget, they would tell me.
Mom, you forgot to write what we’re having for dinner, they would each exclaim.
They got so used to reading the dinner selection, they never asked me any more.
It was soon after the little chef came home, it was determined that he needed a name.

My youngest daughter named him and the name stuck.
All these years later, he is still Billy Bob Junior.
The children are grown and off on their own.
My youngest daughter is in college.

My husband still likes to see what we are having for dinner written on the chalkboard.
I remember when our youngest went off to college.
Those first few dinners of just the two of us, I did not write our dinner selection.
By the third day, my husband actually mentioned it.

Aren’t you going to write on the chalkboard any more?
It was a little thing, but somehow it kept things normal when change was all around us.
I continued to write what we were having for dinner on the chalkboard.
When they come for dinner, my children still look over at Billy Bob Junior.

It is habit.

I noticed that since it is just my husband and I most nights, the selection often stays the same.
It will stay the same for at least two nights since we usually have leftovers.
Leftovers were something we never had when everyone was home.
There was always enough, sometimes there was just enough.

A mother of a large family does not know how to cook for just a few.
Who ever heard of using half a box of spaghetti?
Who can possibly make homemade soup for just two people?
How do you bake half of a meatloaf?

It was a challenge, to say the least.
My husband loves homemade soup and never complains if we have it two nights in a row.
I can change it up a bit and serve it with a different salad or homemade bread.
He reminds me, I can have your soup every day.

I change the chalkboard less frequently now.
Every other day we have leftovers.
My youngest son never liked leftovers, not that we had them that often.
Sometimes, there would be leftovers for lunch the next day for just a few of them.

He never took advantage of that like the others did.
Wishing we had leftovers has now become wishing we didn’t.
I never minded cooking each night.
Now, in this season of life, every other day I get a day off.

I thought of this as I looked at Billy Bob Junior.
The chalkboard still says, Chicken Rice Soup.
The pot of soup was made yesterday.
There was enough leftover for another dinner at least.

When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from other towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick. As evening approached, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place and it is already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the village and buy themselves some food.” Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.” “We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish,” they answered. “Bring them here to me,” he said. And he directed the people to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over. The number of those who ate was about five thousand men, besides women and children. (Matthew 14:13-21)

In that culture, it was expected to collect the leftovers.
Nothing was ever wasted.
Not only were 5,000 men plus women and children fed, but the disciples were fed as well.
The word used for basket is the word for a lunch pail.

There were twelve lunch pails left over.
The disciples, who probably had not taken the time to eat, were provided for.
That is what Jesus does.
He provides for us.

Twelve individual lunch pails were ready with food for the disciples to eat.
No one was forgotten.
Everyone ate until they were satisfied.
Feeding 5,000 men plus women and children is miraculous.

However, there was another miracle.
It was the miracle of the leftovers.
It was a miracle of the just enough.
It was the miracle of provision.

That’s the way Jesus does things.
Then and now.
Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forever.
No fear, no worries; Jesus will take care of you.