Tasting

I try to say "yes" to India as much as possible. She's two, there aren't a whole lot of "yeses" in her life. So when she asks me for something and it is safe, healthy and not contributing to bratiness, I try to say, "yes". Tonight, the two of us were sitting around after supper, just chatting as two girls are wont to do, when she sauntered on over to the spice drawer and pulled out a jar of "Chinese Seasoning". She, of course wanted to eat it, as she wants to eat anything sealed in a jar. I looked at the ingredients and saw that there was nothing offensive in it, and so undid the lid and passed it to her. She sunk her pointer up to the knuckle in the stuff and jabbed it into her mouth.
"How does it taste?" I asked.
"Dirty," she said, with her little mouth covered in spicy glue. And then we giggled a lot. And then she had to try it one more time to make sure she still thought it tasted dirty.

Tonight is our last night at my parents. I am absolutely terrified. Tomorrow I begin real single momness. For the last year and a half my mom has been my safety net and she has caught me on more than one occasion, but now I'm moving outside of her reach. There is a hollow sort of fear that keeps me up at night trying to squeeze out of God some sort of promise that we'll be okay, but I don't know what exactly to pray for. How do you pray for help and safety and wisdom when you know that God lets you fall on your ass and be an ass? I will swear until I'm blue in the face that God will be with us through anything, but dear God, I could really use a good anything right now.

I'm trying to see a connection. Maybe it's a little forced, maybe it's grasping at straws, but maybe it has something to do with sticking my fingers up to the knuckle and tasting for myself?