Part 1: Thoughts on Manna and Perseverance
There is a moment just a couple weeks before Clay's diagnosis that my mind drifts to often. It's so vivid that I have looked for the actual picture on my phone multiple times only to discover that it really does only exist in my mind. It was a perfect spring day in New Orleans, and I was on a walk with the kids. Judson was about 5 or 6 weeks old and I was wearing him and directly ahead of me were the three "big kids" on their bikes. Little stair steps bursting with joy riding around the seminary campus where we lived. Our family was on the cusp of making a transition were excited about, I was married to my best friend, and we felt like our family was complete. I distinctly remember having the thought, "This is the life I always wanted."
In the last 15 months, I've had multiple people comment to me about the Lord providing manna for the day. And goodness, do I feel that. I often lay my head down at night amazed that the Lord has once again provided exactly what I needed and sustained me for another day. It is miraculous and it is enough and it is beautiful that the Lord sees and cares so intimately for us. Indeed, manna for the day. Every single day. It's a beautiful thing to live. But I must admit, that I have found myself more gracious towards the Israelites these days. Those wilderness wanderers who started complaining about the manna. After all, they left Egypt with images of milk and honey in their mind. And while unexplainable manna is miraculous, given the choice, no one choose manna in the wilderness over milk and honey in the promised land.
And I confess there are times as I lay my head down and acknowledge another day of manna that I find myself thinking of that walk last year. Remembering the lightness and anticipation of that season. And I feel a familiar ache in my heart because as much as I am thankful for the manna, I really thought these were going to be milk and honey years.
