It’s good news, Mrs. Friberg,” the doctor said with a smile. “You’re going to have a baby.” My face fell and the doctor patted my shoulder. “You really don’t have anything to worry about,” he said kindly. “You’re in great health, and should have no problems.”
No problems, I thought, except we can’t afford a baby, especially now. Morris, my engineer husband, had just changed jobs, and our insurance wouldn’t be effective for two months! I wanted to be happy for this baby, but the timing was terrible.
Our finances wouldn’t stretch any further. After making the payment on our mobile home and space rent, I had to stretch every dollar just to buy groceries. We had no money left at month’s end.
Waves of worry crashed through me as I drove home. Content to be a stay-at-home mom, I adored my busy kids, three-year-old Morris and mischievous one-year-old Bryan. But we hadn’t expected the money to be so tight.
As Morris walked in from work, I told him the big news. Thrilled, he hugged me and said, “Don’t worry, honey, it’ll all work out.”
But after the boys were in bed I poured out my heart to Mama on the phone. “You say God knows everything, but if He does, why would we have a baby right now, when He knows we have no insurance and no extra money?”
Mama tried to reassure me. “Don’t worry, Chris. With every new baby, God provides an extra loaf of bread.” She told me to read Matthew 6, and pay special attention to the last two verses. Mom trusted God completely, but I just didn’t have that kind of faith. I prayed a lot of anxious prayers, but didn’t seem to get many answers.
That evening I read Matthew 6. The last part caught my attention: “So don’t worry about these things, saying, ‘What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?’” It said that God feeds the birds and clothes the flowers. But verses 33 and 34 hit me, as I read, “Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need. So don’t worry about tomorrow….”
I told God, “I’m not sure how to seek Your kingdom, but I’m willing to learn. Right now, though, we sure need that extra loaf of bread.
As the months passed, I tried to put money aside, but something—like medicine for a sick baby, or new work clothes for Morris—always used the extra. The first payment for prenatal care was due December 1. I wondered anxiously what the doctor would say when I told him I couldn’t pay—and even if I could, what about the amount for the hospital?
Then one morning in late November I received an envelope in the mail from the Metropolitan Insurance Company. Looks like a bill, I thought, as I ripped it open. “Dear Mrs. Friberg,” the letter began, “the endowment policy purchased in your behalf has matured. It has been a pleasure doing business with you and your family. Enclosed please find our check.” A check? And for the exact amount that we needed for the baby!
My hands were shaking so hard I dropped it. They still shook as I phoned my mother. “Mama,” I nearly shouted, “What’s this about an endowment policy? From Metropolitan Life Insurance.” Her laughter rippled. “Oh, Chris, I bought insurance policies for all of you when you were little. It was all I could afford.” “Thanks, Mom,” I whispered, tears running down my face. I could hardly hold tears back the next day as I deposited my “extra loaf of bread” in our checking account.
This was my first experience of God’s provision—that extra loaf of bread at the moment it’s most needed. From it, I learned to take the energy of worry and turn it into prayer, but prayer with a difference—trusting prayer.
