Manna from Heaven

I have always wondered why God made the Israelites go hungry before He finally sent them manna and quail from Heaven. This was the topic of this Sunday’s Gospel and, not being able to understand the priest’s thick Jamaican accent, my mind wandered off as I created my own sermon.

I thought about my own meal schedule: 8 AM breakfast, 12PM lunch, 4PM dinner, 8PM dessert. If the kids ask for a snack in between, I will usually say yes to a piece of fruit if it is more than an hour before the next planned meal. Within that hour I usually say no. I don’t want them to ruin their appetites for the nutritious food I have planned. I am not being cruel. I really know that a regular meal schedule is good for them.

Was this the case with God and His People? I cannot believe He would punish them for their grumbling by making them starve to death. Did He just want to make them wait a little longer so they would appreciate his sustenance all the more?

Do you ever have dinner just about ready and the kids start nagging you that they are hungry? Do you get a little annoyed? Or are you pleased that they are hungry for the meal you have slaved over? God had probably planned this little miracle for them all along. Maybe He was annoyed at them for complaining; or maybe He just wanted to hear them ask; or maybe a little bit of both.

Exodus 16 (NAB)

“11 The LORD spoke to Moses and said,

12 "I have heard the grumbling of the Israelites. Tell them: In the evening twilight you shall eat flesh, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread, so that you may know that I, the LORD, am your God."

13 In the evening quail came up and covered the camp. In the morning a dew lay all about the camp,

14 and when the dew evaporated, there on the surface of the desert were fine flakes like hoarfrost on the ground. “

One Not-So-Fine Easter Monday

Just when I think my day couldn’t get any worse, I get splashed in the face with stagnant pool water.

It was one of those really awful Mondays when all of one’s responsibilities seem to crash down on her at once. We came home to a messy house last night, and my allergies caused me to crash in bed early. So I woke up to an even messier house, as the children had finished up their breakfast with an Easter grass fight in the dining room. Laundry from the weekend was piled up by the garage. The kitchen floor was filthy.

I ran out to the store to buy science fair boards and found they came in two different sizes. I didn’t know which size to buy for my son, so I got one of each. The girls will reuse their boards from last year. We stopped at the library for research report books. This week we will complete three science fair projects, two book reports, and a musical report on Beethoven. So much for Easter vacation.

I open up my email and find the softball schedule for my second daughter. I compare it to the schedule for my first daughter and have the heart attack I had been preparing myself for all winter. And I didn’t even get my son’s baseball schedule yet.

I go to the mailbox – there is an Easter egg waiting for me, which the kids hadn’t found on Easter morning. I put it in my pocket, look up, and suddenly smile. There are yellow-and-violet hybrid cold-resistant pansies on my porch, where I had left them on Saturday, and planting them will make me very happy.

Once the toddler is in for a nap, I plant my pansies in the deck planters. While up on the pool deck, I decide to get one-up on the pool season and remove some leaves from the pool. I locate the pool leaf rake and start scooping. It is really hard work, and I am happy to be burning off the calories from the post-lunch chocolate splurge I had allowed myself.

My son is taking a break from scooping up dog-poo, hitting baseballs towards the woods. One of them lands in the pool, a few feet away from me, and I am covered from head to toe in filthy pool water.

That fit in with my day very well. I head to the head for an emergency shower. I am not a super-clean freak, but don’t like the idea of strange organisms in stagnant pool water sitting in my hair.

Once clean, it is time to heat up some leftovers for a quick dinner before softball practice. The coach announces a practice for Thursday, the same time as the practices already schedule for my other daughter and my son. The scheduling nightmare begins.

It is more difficult to get the kids to bed when there is no school in the morning, and I finally have them in their rooms by 10:00. I open up my email and there is a reminder from my friend that there are 40 days of Easter, 40 days to celebrate, to match the 40 days of Lent. I’ve started it all wrong, but (as Scarlett O’Hara loved to say) tomorrow is another day.

“He that is of a merry heart heath a continual feast.”
Proverbs 15:15

Painting: Christ Appearing to the Virgin, c. 1475, by a follower of Rogier van der Weyden

To Go to School, or Not?

Visiting Day at the Hospital 1889

“You’re not lonely today, are you, Mrs. Miller?” asks the school nurse when she calls me today.

No, I’m never lonely, I think, but play along anyway, and laugh, pretending I have a sense of humour.

Lately, I have not had one. It’s been a tough winter, with kids continually out sick with something. Now hit me all at once with all of them sick and me feeling crummy. I try to tell myself it could be worse, they could be in the hospital, we could have the Black Plague, but it doesn’t work. I recognize the cognitive behavioral definition of depression while going through it myself: the cycling of negative thoughts. You know it’s going on but feel helpless to break it. Like a drowning swimmer, you need someone to throw you a lifeline. My online friends do that for me, sending me prayers right when I need it.

None of my kids went to school today. It feels like that was the right decision, when I find out the flu is going around. The kids all received the flu shot this year, but this is a different strain.

My oldest one was out for three days last week, due to a fever. She never fully recovered and now has sinus pain, the reason for her absence today. My littlest one had a fever for three days over the weekend, followed by a constantly running nose that turned into a bloody nose after all the constant wiping. Perhaps my judgment was a little off, due to lack of sleep, when I followed through on my promise to distribute snacks at the school yesterday.

The second grade teacher complained about my son’s coughing, more than hinting that perhaps he shouldn’t return to school the next day. And my fifth grader came home hacking something scary. When I told them they weren’t going to school the next day, they complained. My fifth grader had a science bee she was looking forward to. My second grader just loves school – imagine that!

My seventh grader attempted to reason with them: "If you're sick your immunity is lowered and you are less resistant to catching the stomach virus. And if you get it we all get it. And I REALLY want to see the cousins!!!" We missed seeing them over Christmas break due to a stomach virus, and are looking forward to making up the visit next week.

They continued to insist they wanted to go to school. I said they could if they didn't cough once all night. But my eldest and I secretly plotted to not set the alarms so no one could wake them up on time.

It wound up being a balmy day, and after lunch we were all out in the backyard. Jacketless, I propped myself up on two chairs and picked up on my reading of Les Miserables. They played baseball, after finding a place that was not too muddy. My littlest one hates to get dirty, but she eventually let me put her down on the soggy ground in snow boots.

From our time in the sun, I had a good dose of natural melatonin to boost my mood. The kids can go back to school tomorrow; I’ll cross my fingers so they don’t pick up something else. I finally break my cycle of negative thoughts by repeating to myself, “I’m never alone, never alone, never alone, never alone.”

Not-So-Divine Moments

From time to time I’ll make a comment that make my husband remark, “Would you put that on your blog?”

We all have moments when we forget to be thankful for what we have. That is one of the reasons I write this blog: to remind myself – and others – of the gifts we have been given.

Thank you again for the support of my readers. I welcome any and all of your comments. A blessed Epiphany to you and your families!

Picture above painted by Hans Multscher, 1467, The Adoration of the Magi

The Great Gatsby and the Heat of June

Today was a scorcher – relatively speaking – for us Long Islanders who have had little prelude to summer. Our pool was not yet open and the air conditioning not ready to be turned on. My bicycle had a flat tire.

We took turns putting our feet in the baby’s kiddie pool, which is about one yard in diameter. When she got tired of it, we dumped it for safety’s sake.

Then we could think of nothing to do. A rarety for us! My husband was out in the yard mowing, soaking in the rays and uncomplaining.

This morning we had purchased a student desk from our neighbor who was moving. I told my eldest daughter, the recipient, to spray it down with Liquid Gold before bringing it in. I think the polish got all over the front porch and we all brought it in on our feet, because later on the front hallway felt slippery. I gave it a quick mop, which I believe spread the Liquid Gold in a thin sheen that spread across the entire floor, which runs the length of my house from front to back.

When the baby got up from her nap, she noticed the floor looked wet, and was wisely hesitant to walk on it. I told my 9-year-old daughter to mop the floor with soap. Still the floor was slippery. Then my 11-year-old daughter mopped it, to no avail. So the baby was stuck in the living room, as were we.

Everyone was complaining.

“It’s too hot.”

“I’m too tired.”

I thought of the long, boring chapter in The Great Gatsby in which Nick accompanies his bickering acquaintances to a hot, upper-story apartment in a non-descript part of town. They are all sitting around, drinking cocktails and getting on each other’s nerves. I remember reading that in high school and not being able to make much sense out of that particular chapter. When I reread it last year, the long, drawn-out scene still irritated me and eventually put me to sleep.

As I thought of that, I wondered how I could put this story into my blog, and what moral I could tell with it. Could I write myself a lesson to get out of my own unpleasant mood?

I could think of nothing, and our own long, drawn-out scene soon played itself out. The shade appeared and we were able to enjoy the backyard once again. We barbecued and put the baby to bed. The kids were ordered to watch “Snow White”, as a lesson on how to “whistle while you work”, while I gave the floor the most elbow-grease it has gotten in a year.

“Do all things without murmurings and disputings.” Phillipians 2:14

You can read "The Great Gatsby", by F. Scott Fitzgerald, online at this link.

Lightheartedness

When my mother called last night, I gave her little chance to tell me why she had called. Barely pausing to take a breath, I told her how my nine-year-old had had a fever all weekend and my six-year-old had thrown up in his bed and slept in it.

“And yet you tell me this so lightheartedly,” she mused.

I could not explain my carefree attitude except by the grace of God. “Laughter is the heart’s best medicine,” Proverbs tells us, and somehow the capacity for laughter had been sent me as a much-need gift overnight.

Certainly I was not seeing things so well early on Sunday. Halfway to church, we realized we had left the offering envelope at home. After dropping my husband and the older children at church, I went back to retrieve it. Coming in halfway through the mass, as soon as I found a seat the baby started acting up. She wanted every hymnal in the pew. She wanted to stack them up a certain way, then put them back, then hold them all at once. If she did not get her way, she would shriek. Even half a mass was too long for me.

Once she was tucked in for her nap, we started a project I had not looked forward to. We had left the Christmas tree and lights up until January 6, and my husband was anxious to take them down. I served lunch and retrieved the Christmas boxes from the garage to get them set up. Then I went food shopping.

When I got home, the lights were down and away, and the tree was at the curb. My husband had vacuumed and swept. All the ornaments were neatly laid on the dining room table. And yet I grumbled. Each of the decorations had its own box, which it had to be laid in precisely. Then each individual box had to be packed into a larger box in such a way as to maximize space and minimize breakage possibilities. The chore seemed so depressing to me and I moped through it for hours.

After the children were in bed, I noticed the sap that had dripped across the floor. I got the floor cleaner out and started polishing the dining room floor – something only done when it becomes obviously necessary. Then I swept and cleaned the kitchen floor. My husband ripped up old boxes and put the packed boxes back into the garage. He saved Mary from accidentally being thrown away (!).

Finally, exhausted, we lay on the couch and watched some television. Looking around me, the cleanliness and absence of clutter calmed my spirits. I peeked in on my son, who had conked out before changing into his pajamas.

My husband turned on an infomercial and my ears perked up as a medical author discussed natural remedies for some ailments some of my relatives suffer from. “Should we order it?” I asked jokingly. Surprisingly, my husband answered in all serious, “Go ahead!”

We had never ordered anything over the telephone before, and I was so pleased at having this gracious permission offered, that I picked up the telephone. The customer representative soon started in on a series of related offers. Was I interested in a weight loss book in the series? A smoking cessation book? Free trials for three magazines? A shopping savings club? No thank you, no thank you, went my “broken record”.

My husband was nearly in stitches listening to my end of the conversation. Finally, “we have made arrangements for you and your family to spend six days and seven nights in sunny Florida,” and I broke into peals of laughter. “No thank you, we just got back!” I answered, “Have a nice night!”

Monday morning, my son came to me in silent tears. I asked my husband to help me discover the cause. He looked into our son’s room and informed me he had thrown up. So at 6:00 AM I started running a bath for him, stripping the bed, and disinfecting.

“Mommy, my head hurts,” said my nine-year-old. She was running a fever of 102 degrees.

“I guess you’re the only one of us going to school today,” I told my eldest.

Once I heard the baby wake up, I started to steam clean the rug in my son’s room. When I was done, I went in to get her. She had fallen back asleep – and stayed that way until after noon! I went downstairs and joined the sick children, who lay on the couch watching television. I caught up on some sleep.

My son had a little table with Cheerios and grape Pedialyte. Of course, he knocked it over. The steam cleaner came down the stairs and now my living room floor is really clean.

Concerned about my daughter’s state-mandated English-Language-Arts exam, which was to take place starting Tuesday, I called the school secretary. She let me know that a child must be fever-free for 24 hours before returning to school, and that a makeup period would be provided for her. After all the preparation that had gone into this test, she was going to miss the first day. What else could I do but laugh?

It was unseasonably warm, so we all went outside for a few hours. It was very pleasant. Once the baby was up, she was happy to stretch her legs outdoors.

It definitely could have been worse, so for what it was I had to be thankful.

I turned in at midnight, saying I’d been up since 6:00. Then I corrected myself, remembering my morning nap. “Oh yeah,” I said, laughing aloud, “I’ve really only been up since 11:00!” I kept chuckling until I finally fell asleep.

“A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones.”
Proverbs 17:22

Pictured above: Saint Francis of Assissi, whose lightheartedness was contagious with both children and animals.

Complaining at Christmas Time

Okay, we all know we are supposed to be full of good cheer this month, but I am sure all of we moms lose patience at least once with all we have to do. So I am going to take this opportunity to gripe publicly. But I promise I have a point and will end on a positive note.

We just read the Old Testament story about how God sent vipers to punish his people for griping in the wilderness. Moses had to put up a bronze serpent so that all who looked on it would not die of their bites. I am reminded of this as I look behind my computer chair at our Jesse tree with the symbol of the bronze snake.

I hate shopping. I mean, I really, really hate shopping. Especially at times like this when stores are a mob, and I am only there to meet a necessity.

My daughter needed a new winter coat, so I found myself on a long line at Kohl’s today with my single purchase and my toddler standing up in her stroller and whining. The lady behind me on the line had a sleeping pre-schooler in a stroller, whom she kept absent-mindedly pushing into my legs. It took every ounce of restraint I could summon to keep myself from spinning around and say, “Do you really think you are going to get to the cash register any faster by smashing your child into my legs?” A few times she left the child there to go a few yards away and look at another sale item. I took that opportunity to inch away and position myself so the next nudge would annoy a little less.

The upside to my ordeal was that I received a real bargain on the needed coat. The cashier was surprised that I had waited on the line for only one item. Upon ringing up the coat, I remarked that it was only computed as 25% off rather than the 60% advertised. A nearby manager, desperately trying to manage the long line, told the cashier to give it to me at 60% off. He calculated it on his cell phone while I quickly worked out the math problem on a scrap piece of paper. When I got home and looked at the circular, I saw that “athletic” coats were excluded from the sale and so, indeed, this had worked to my advantage.

My daughter happened to have a difficult time with her math homework tonight and I promised I had a surprise for her after she had completed it. This helped out with her attitude a bit, and she was very happy with her new coat.

Last time I was in a complaining mood, my husband commented, “It could be worse. We could have been borne in the Middle Ages during the Black Plague.” Having read about that ordeal in Kristen Lavransdatter, I quieted myself and tried to look for a silver lining somewhere.

And there always is. A good friend of ours is about to be shipped off for Navy Reserve Boot Camp, a few days before Christmas. What was his family doing tonight? Personally delivering food, clothing, and Christmas gifts to needy families on Eastern Long Island. (They run a website called Help for Long Island.) Now that is inspiring.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”
Phillipians 4:8