I sat in a wing-back chair by the blazing fireplace, surrounded by friends on a Wednesday night; our weekly life-group meeting was underway. As I read aloud from Acts 2, I caught myself pausing when I came to verse 42: “...and they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer” (Acts 2:42, NIV).
My afternoon nap ended abruptly as I awoke to a constriction in my chest, difficulty breathing, and a general sense of panic flooding through my body. “Something’s wrong…” was all I could say to my husband before I began to weep uncontrollably.
I watched the funds in our bank account dwindle with every passing day. Abrupt recent changes to our economy had negatively affected both my husband’s and my job. We didn’t have much income on the horizon, and I was waking up daily with a sense of fear and restlessness about the future.
This month, my husband and I had a huge car repair bill and a big renewal fee for my real estate license, both due in the same week, on top of our regular monthly expenses. We are both in commission-based sales jobs, which definitely has its perks.
I sat on my bed in the attic of the little house in Nashville, wrestling with the reality that a lifelong dream was coming to an end. In the morning, I would be loading up the car to drive back home to Canada. Three months earlier, I had arrived in the city of my dreams with hopes to cut a record in the Christian music industry.