When the Bottom Falls Out

There’s a particular kind of terror that comes when your life doesn’t fall apart all at once, but little by little. A little lost here. A paycheck cut there. A bill that can’t be paid. A car payment skipped “just this once.” And before you know it, the edges of your life feel like they’re crumbling beneath your feet.

That was us this year.

I left a stable job because I was unhappy. Then I bounced from one accounting job to another, still searching for something that didn’t suffocate me. I ended up at Kona Ice, making $14 an hour for maybe twenty hours a week. I went from earning $32 an hour to barely scraping by.

Our finances didn’t just dip. They collapsed.

The Dodge Hornet was a lemon. We let the bank take it because we couldn’t afford the $900 payment. It sold at auction, and now we owe $20,000 on a car we don’t even have. And the other car is falling behind as well. We’re behind on the house, behind on nearly everything.

Matthew 6:11 says, “Give us this day our daily bread.”

Some days, I pray that verse with shaking hands. Some days, I pray it with anger. Most days, I can barely pray it at all.

The Shame of Being an Accountant Who Can’t Fix Her Own Finances

I’m an accountant. I know how to budget. I know how to plan. I know the formulas and the systems. But when the income isn’t there, even the best budget collapses.

People expect accountants to have perfect finances—like doctors never get sick or therapists never struggle with their mental health. The fear of people thinking I’m a fraud is overwhelming.

We’ve talked about bankruptcy. The numbers say we probably should. My pride says we can’t.

Jeremiah 17:7-8 says, "Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit."

But here’s the truth I’m learning the hard way: Faith isn’t about performing competence. It’s about admitting our limits and trusting God’s path.

Owning the Hard Truth Without Letting It Own Me

Matt has been in the same job for thirteen years—steady, grounded, reliable.

I’m the one who moved. I’m the one who left. I’m the one whose income plummeted.

For a long time, that truth turned into condemnation. Every overdue bill became an accusation. Every overdraft felt like a verdict. Shame whispered: This is all your fault.

And sometimes, I wished Matt would stop trying to protect me from that truth and instead say the thing my heart already believed: “I know how we got here. But we’ll climb out together.”

Owning the truth is devastating. But pretending I didn’t cause the collapse feels worse.

I stare at spreadsheets of bills I can’t pay, watching autopays hit like punches. My kids eat whatever cheap meals we can manage. Matt lives on frozen pizza. I live on tortillas with cheese because it’s all we can afford. Every payday feels like coming up for air just long enough to get pulled back under.

2 Corinthians 12:9 says, "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

Maybe this isn’t God exposing me. Maybe it’s Him inviting me to let go of the illusion that I ever held everything together in the first place.

The Fear of Losing Everything

We’ve kept our situation quiet. Only our parents know. The kids know money is tight, but not how tight. They don’t know why the Hornet is gone. They don’t know how close we are to losing the house.

Deuteronomy 31:8 says, "It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; He will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed."

The fear sits on my chest like a weight I can’t lift, and it’s loud, but I want to believe the promises in Scripture.

The Rejection That Cuts Deep

I’ve applied for job after job—accounting, bookkeeping, anything remotely in my field. Twelve years of experience. A public bookkeeping license. A business degree. Four years of owning my own firm. And still:

“You’re not qualified.”
“We found someone more qualified.”

Unless they hired a CPA, those rejections feel personal.

Finally, through a marching band connection, I was hired by a machine manufacturing company whose bookkeeper had been injured. It wasn’t the remote job I wanted. It wasn’t glamorous. But it was a provision. A job. A paycheck. A step forward.

Sometimes God doesn’t send the job you hoped for—He sends the job that keeps your family afloat.

Psalm 37:25 says, "I have been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken or his children begging for bread."

Every side business I’ve ever tried—Scentsy, Advocare, my bookkeeping firm, LegacyMaker Co.—has failed. And the question I keep asking myself is: Am I really that big of a failure?

Wrestling With God in the Middle of the Story

I have not handled this season gracefully. Matt leans on God easily. I never have. Control has always been my coping mechanism. But now everything is out of control.

People love to say, “God won’t give you more than you can handle.” I don’t believe that. If anything, it feels like I’m drowning in more than I can survive.

Psalm 36:5 says, "Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds."

I’ve prayed. I’ve cried. I’ve begged. And things kept getting worse.

So I stopped going to church. Stopped pretending everything was okay. Stopped forcing a faith response I didn’t feel.

Psalm 13:1-2 says, "How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?"

Right now? I feel abandoned.

And Yet… Somehow, We’re Still Here

Even in the weeks I wasn’t speaking to God, He was still sustaining us. It wasn’t dramatic. But it was real.

Here’s the part I can’t explain: We are still standing. Barely. But standing.

Philippians 4:19 says, "And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus."

There has always been just enough: Enough groceries to stretch another week. Enough gas to get to work. Enough help to keep us afloat.

Matthew 6:25-26 says, "Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?"

Maybe daily bread really does come daily, even when I don’t recognize it.

Christmas will be simple this year. The kids already got their gifts, but we’ll wrap little notes for them to open—a small way to protect their joy, a moment of creativity in a season of scarcity.

Romans 8:1 says, "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."

The condemnation I feel doesn’t come from God. It comes from fear, from pride, from my own expectations of myself.

To the Mom Walking Through Financial Darkness

If you’re staring at bills you can’t pay…
If shame sits heavier than hope…
If you feel like your prayers are bouncing off the ceiling…
If you’re angry at God or too exhausted to try…

You’re not alone.

You are not a failure. You are not condemned. You are not forgotten.

God is working even when you can’t feel it.

Sometimes His provision looks like survival. Sometimes it looks like just enough. Sometimes it looks like breath in your lungs when you swore you’d drown.

I don’t see how He’s going to supply ours yet. But I am choosing—reluctantly, stubbornly—to believe He will.

Not because everything feels okay, but because He has carried us this far. And He will carry you too.

Reflection Questions

• Have you ever faced a financial crisis? What did that feel like?
• Do you struggle with feeling like a failure when things fall apart financially?
• How do you cope with the fear and shame of not being able to provide?
• Where have you seen God’s provision—even if it didn’t look the way you expected?

A Prayer for the Mom Facing Financial Crisis

Father, I’m scared. I don’t know how we’re going to make it. The bills are piling up, and I don’t see a way out. I feel like a failure. I feel like I’m being punished. I feel like You’ve forgotten me. But I’m choosing—however reluctantly—to trust You anyway. Provide for us, Lord. Not in the way I expect, but in the way You know is best. Give me daily bread—enough for today. Help me surrender control and trust that You see me, You love me, and You haven’t forgotten me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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This is the sixth post in the “From The Trenches” series—a raw, unfiltered look at faith, failure, and finding hope in the valley. If this post resonated with you, I’d love to hear your story. You can comment below or reach out privately at danece@momleavesalegacy.com. You’re not alone in this fight.🩷 💙