Derrick chose a handbasket instead of a cart, not out of preference but necessity. Payday had come, but rent, the electric bill, and bus passes had already spoken for most of it. What remained had to be handled carefully.
He counted items as he walked: eggs, bread, peanut butter, apples, oatmeal. Staples only.
On Aisle 7, he stopped between cereal boxes and instant noodles. The brand his daughter loved cost more than the store option. He hesitated, fingers hovering, feeling the weight of choosing between want and wisdom.
“God,” he whispered quietly, “You know what she likes. Help me do right by her with what I’ve got.”
His eyes landed on plain oats, then raisins and cinnamon nearby. He smiled. Breakfast could still be special — just made with intention. He swapped the cereal for ingredients that would last longer. In the meat section, he chose chicken thighs instead of boneless cuts and added frozen vegetables to stretch meals.
Later, as he stirred chicken and rice at home, his daughter wandered in.
“It smells like Grandma’s house,” she said.
That’s when it hit him. God hadn’t filled his basket with more food. He had filled Derrick with wisdom, memory, and creativity. Faith hadn’t changed his budget — it had changed how he used it.
Sometimes provision looks like knowing how to stretch what’s already there.