In the summer of 1997, I clipped a comic strip from the newspaper. The strip was “B.C.,” then drawn by Johnny Hart. The characters in the strip were cavemen, and the themes regularly invoked Mr. Hart’s religious views. The one I carry was part of an ongoing story where one of the cavemen was floating on a tiny raft with a crab. The raft was barely large enough to hold the caveman, the post with a sail, and a box against which the caveman was resting his head. The crab was in a crow’s nest that looked like a flowerpot mounted atop the pole. In the first panel, the caveman wants to know whether there’s any land in sight, and the crab, showing optimism, says, “Not yet.” Then the caveman complains about how the crab is no good and how he (the caveman) is starving to death. The crab reprimands him and in the final frame, it says, “Have hope—provision will come.” The caveman demands, “. . . And just who is going to provide?” Then, as a fish jumps from the water into the box, a voice from above proclaims “I AM.”

I’ve carried this clipping in my day planner for nearly twenty-eight years. During the inevitable lean times in the life of a freelancer, the strip has reminded me that provision will indeed come. And it always has, ever since the end of May, 1997, when I left a full-time job with a regular salary, paid time off, health insurance, and employer contributions (albeit minimal) to my retirement account. I had one client, a box of business cards, and a book entitled, Money-Smart Secrets for the Self-Employed, by Linda Stern.

Twenty-eight years. So far, so good.