We often go down to my Dad’s house on Sundays. The pace slows down just a little more there by the river. The Bear rides around the neighborhood with G-pa in the golf cart, the Tank sometimes naps in a quiet room, Sunday afternoon football is the background music for this kind of shin-dig.

Sometimes my Dad grills his famous chicken wings — I adore the spicy flavor that tingles my lips a little, and have to purposely decide to only eat however many I’ve put on my plate. And maybe two more. Sometimes I’m in the kitchen doing twice-stuffed potatoes. But on this particular evening, we decided we just wanted pancakes and bacon.

I was about to run out to the store for the necessary ingredients for the evening feast when my Dad stopped me. He put his hand in his pocket, flipped through the contents and handed me what seemed like an odd amount: $12.

He didn’t know exactly what I was going to pick up, but we all know cash is a very acceptable form of payment at the local Piggly Wiggly. With appreciation, I folded the bills and stuck them in my pocket and hopped in the car.


I quickly strolled through the aisles of the Pig, plastic red basket firmly in the crook of my arm, to one end of the store and back to the other because I’d passed the milk without realizing it. Once all the necessities were together in the basket I passed through a group speaking Spanish near the fruits with a Lo siento (I’m sorry) for cutting through their conversation and an Está bien (It’s okay) as they tried to move an empty cart out of the way.

At the checkout, I couldn’t help but smile as the cashier finished scanning the items and announced the total: $11.38.

My wallet was out and ready to pay, but instead I simply slipped my hand into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out the cash I’d been handed a few minutes before.

I had more than enough. I left the Pig with change.

As I strolled back out to the parking lot with my goods in tow, I sighed and smiled at my patient Heavenly Father, who is good enough to remind me that He is more than enough.

That simple interaction with my Dad reminded me that my Heavenly Father is well able to provide for my every need.

He knows what I’ll need before I do.

He will give me what I need when I need it.

He is gracious and generous, and gives me more than enough — I have enough to share with others.

And isn’t that the way He does it?

He gives us more than enough, so that we can give out of our overflow, knowing that every good gift comes from Him, trusting that His more-than-enough provision will meet us when we need it.

My heart marveled at the simple beauty of it as I drove home from the store.

Once my Dad had returned from the golf cart adventure with the Bear in tow, I promptly fished the change out of my pocket and gave it back to him.

Since more than enough comes my way, Lord help me to give it back to you. It’s all yours.

I smiled as I told Dad he’d given me just the right amount.

He grinned and said, “I thought that’d be about right.”