by Ann Ferguson

Years ago, I believed that living in lack was simply my lot in life. It felt like I was missing everything—everything but the air I was required to breathe. I lacked love: my husband had turned his heart away from me and given it to another woman. I lacked time: I had five small children who needed every waking moment. I lacked friendship: the woman my husband gave his heart to had once been my best friend, and with her went my trust in friendship. I lacked money, support, energy, respect—even the ability to feel emotions fully. I was shut down, closed off, afraid. I felt like one of the walking dead. The numbness was easier than the loneliness, fear, or pain. Everywhere I looked, all I could see was what I didn’t have.

One afternoon, I was folding laundry—mindlessly, robotically. Oprah was on the TV, background noise more than anything. There was no time to sit and relax. I was trying to fold and stack the clothes before my two-year-old could destroy the pile, and he was fast. No room to rest.

Oprah was interviewing a woman who had written a book about living an abundantly simple life. The concept felt foreign to me. The word abundance lodged itself in my mind like a lyric from a song you hear in a store—one you can’t stop humming, even if you don’t know why.

Abundance... abundance...

Hours later, I realized the word was still looping in my head. I asked myself, “What does that even mean?” I had no real experience with it. Abundance felt like it belonged to someone else. It was for women whose husbands adored them. For people who didn’t have five little kids. For the lucky few who stumbled into it and then celebrated their good fortune from a distance I couldn't even imagine. Abundance...

I value knowledge, and when I don’t know something, I seek to understand it. This word had me stuck. But I remembered: when you lack wisdom, you can ask God. So I did.

“Heavenly Father, what is abundance? I have no clue what it even means. I’m willing to learn. No—I’m more than willing. I want to know. What is abundance?”

That was it. A short prayer. I moved on with my day, the word fading from my thoughts.

Weeks passed, and both the word and the prayer slipped from my memory. Then one night, while driving home from my part-time job, I noticed the gas light was on—again. I had been running on fumes for months. My Suburban took $80 to fill, and gas prices were high. My husband had taken over the finances but wasn’t keeping up with the basics. It wasn’t unusual to wake up and find the water or power shut off.

So, I had created a system. I’d cash my paycheck and put $20 in the tank—just enough for two days. Then I’d pray for the next $20 to get the kids to school. If I had nothing, I couldn't offer anything to the utility company. But if I had something, maybe I could negotiate. Miraculously, God always provided. I had faith He would. That was my life: not enough, and just above empty.

But this night, God had a different plan.

As I walked toward the convenience store to pay for gas, I felt a strong impression: Fill the tank.

Panic surged through me. I tried to dismiss it—it felt irresponsible. With each step, the prompting grew stronger. By the time I stood in front of the cashier, I knew: if I didn’t pay for a full tank, I’d be ignoring the Spirit. My hands shook as I handed over $80.

I walked back to the car, dreading what might happen if the water got shut off in the coming days. I pumped the gas. When I hung the nozzle and got back in the car, my legs were weak with adrenaline. I buckled my seatbelt and turned the key.

The needle pointed to “F.”

I hadn’t seen that in months.

A wave of peace washed over me. I had more than enough gas to get through the week.

And then came the whisper—the first lesson in abundance.

“Notice the gage. See that your tank is full. You are abundant in gas tonight. You have more than you need to get home and get the kids to the bus stop in the morning. Every time you get into the car from now on, look at the gage. Notice that it is enough. In a few days, I will give you $20. Put it on top of the tank so that you have evidence of abundance. Do not let it get below half a tank again. I will provide. I lack nothing, and if you are brave like you were tonight, I will fill your life with abundance just like I did the tank. Thank you so much for allowing me to bless you.”

It was one of the most profound moments of my life.

I followed the instructions. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, my vibration began to shift—one tank at a time, one inspired idea at a time. I went from vibrating with lack and not enough to more than enough and more on the way.

It didn’t happen overnight. And yes, many times I shook in fear as I co-created with God. But the change came.

I am a witness: courage paired with Rare Faith opens the door to abundance.

Today, I believe abundance—not lack—is my inheritance. I have enough love, time, friendship, money, support, respect, passion, and purpose. I’m no longer numb. I’m no longer just surviving—I’m thriving. I have enough, and I can feel the thrill of dreaming for more.

I am alive.

And the best part? I feel gratitude—for the things I once hated, for what is unfolding now, and for what is still to come. Co-creating with a God who loves to bless His children is possible. The laws of thought are divine. So keep learning. Keep walking. Keep trusting.

There’s more ahead than you could ever imagine.

Oh—and here’s a fun fact I learned: when you put $20 on top of a full tank, you get more miles per gallon. God is so good.

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