What is your manna?

It takes a village to raise a family, they say, but then why can it feel like such a lonely job? Why am I the only one getting up in the middle of the night with the crying baby? Why am I the only one at home day in and day out wiping noses and butts and settling disputes and cleaning up yet one more mess? Where is my village? I saw a meme a few days ago that said something like, "It takes a village to raise a family, but is there like a number we call or what?"  That is very much in my own words, but it can feel like that sometimes. It can feel lonely and I can get desperate, longing for that outside help, that outside influence, that human that doesn't whine or need everything done for them. 

But maybe, just maybe, I'm looking in the wrong places for my village. I'm looking in the places I expect to see it, I'm looking for it where I think it should be, but what if it's not there? What if my village is showing up in ways I never thought about, in places I would never have looked? What if my village looks like manna? It's not a big huge event, it's just small things gleaned over time, over days, over weeks and months even, but when I lump it all together, I realize my village has showed up for me in a big way. 

I love this picture I found on the Internet, (I'm not sure where, I should have noted that before I closed the web page, I know). I picture these two ladies meeting in the morning in the wilderness to pick up their manna for the day.  They are comparing stories during their 10 minute excursion outside their tent, they are both in the same stage of life and it is hard and they get discouraged, but yet they come out for their share of manna. This manna isn't landing in neat packages all tied up and ready for them, no they are picking this manna off the ground. Perhaps sometimes they even have to brush some dirt off of it before they put it in the basket, but still they keep on because this is what is sustaining them, literally.

What is my manna? Today, it felt obscure, hidden behind a sassy attitude and a snow-tracked freshly cleaned floor. But it was there. It was there in the sunshine streaming through the living room window. (My daughter didn't seem impressed with my idea that she should sit it in and bask it in and feel how cozy it was) It was there in a message from a friend announcing that their pig was done and they had gotten a bunch of tenderloin for us. My mouth is about drooling just thinking about it. I have been wanting pork tenderloin for a long time and since we are blessed with so much meat right now (more manna) I have not allowed myself to buy any. But buying from a friend unexpectedly? Manna for my day and a meal for next week. Manna is even here now as I sit at my computer, drinking my peppermint tea and eating chocolate in the quiet of an afternoon while my children are in bed. (I might have even bribed them with 2 M&Ms each if they sleep.)

Manna was in a good, long conversation with a friend last weekend while our children played. This friend has been pouring out manna on me in good and hard ways for the last six years as she graciously allowed me to be part of her pregnancy and little girl after my own pregnancy ended and my little girl went to be with Jesus. Being able to gift her little girl with school supplies when she started school was such a huge gift of manna to me in my grief. I'm pretty sure I was more excited over the box than she was. 

Manna has been there in messages from friends, in a fun little gift bag from a young girl at church because it was Pastor Appreciation Month, in numerous other cards from small people and money and a gift card for the same reason.  Such a blessing of manna that poured over us. It came in the form of a mom giving up her morning, bringing me coffee and washing my dishes as I baked one morning this summer. That still blesses me when I remember.

And yes, I think manna even came yesterday morning as I sat in my chair and felt God prompting me that I've been too hard on my children, that while I am not a yeller, I am a frustrated speaker and that shows through and it's not good. And that maybe instead of getting frustrated, I should try working with them more instead of demanding so much, that I should try to make their work more fun so we both stay happier. I'm an adult and I don't like picking up toys, they really don't like picking up toys, but am I showing them how, am I showing them that it can be done quickly and with pleasure? Am I exemplifying that attitude in my own daily chores?

And yes, sometimes I think manna comes by us picking up the phone and humbling ourselves and asking for help. I remember one day my mom coming and watching my children so I could sleep after a rough night. That was manna and it brings tears to my eyes to remember the kindness that it was to me once I was willing to say I need help. I'm not good at this asking thing, but I think there is manna waiting to be poured out if we are willing to ask.

And so, in conclusion, yes, it takes a village to raise a family, but that village isn't very likely going to descend all at once. That village is going to come as small pieces. Sometimes we may even need to brush the dirt off first before we can see the manna, but it's there and it's just waiting for us. I want to see the manna that comes my way and give thanks and I want to reach out and be the manna that someone else needs to sustain them in their day.