Dear Me,
Listen. I need money. Big money. The kind of money that enters Harrods with confidence. You get me?
I have been revisiting my math skills of late, pressing buttons, rearranging figures, subtracting and adding – my salaries here, side hustle there. Maybe if I combine this with that and that with this, save this monthly… the money will show up. But while I was deep in this financial brainstorming slash mild panic, a scripture casually walked into my thoughts like, “Hey aunty pause.”
“Look at the birds of the air…”
Ah. Here we go again.
But this time, I actually looked.
These birds are unserious. No CV. No job description. No KPI. No “What do you do for a living?” No rushing off to work, waiting till month end for salary or one dash and allowances from work etc. They don’t sow, they don’t reap, they don’t save, they don’t even have emergency funds—and yet, every day, they are fed. They don’t even go to learn trade, skills, sell any product, no hussling sha
Hmmm, explain that to LinkedIn o. Husling and Bussling!
The more I thought about it, the more disturbed I became. Because according to Jesus, these birds are out here living their best lives without spreadsheets, and God is fully responsible for them. Why? Because they are birds. His creation. End of discussion.
Then it hit me.
God does not need my stress to sustain me.
Shocking, I know.
He doesn’t need me to overthink myself into burnout just to provide food, clothing, and shelter. Apparently, survival is His department. My assignment is… being. Just be who He created me to be. A human being. Not a human calculator. Not a human hustling machine.
And when I align with that—when I stop trying to earn my worth and start living from it—provision flows. I become lighter. Freer. Less clenched. Less “how will it work?” and more “it will work.”
So maybe the goal isn’t to work for a living until life leaves me.
Maybe the goal is to live.
To be who He created me to be.
And let God handle the birds… and me.
This is ME – checking in!
Aarinola

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