My “Manna in the Wilderness” Experience

manna-pixabay

In the Old Testament is the story of the Hebrews leaving Egypt–where they’d been slaves for more than 400 years–and wandering in the desert wilderness for 40 years on their way to the Promised Land. All along the way, God provided just enough manna for the day’s journey. Any excess spoiled immediately.

The story is a metaphor for my entire life.

Providence has always supplied me with “just enough” to get from today to tomorrow without going hungry. “Just enough” to feed my livestock, pets and myself, pay my part of the mortgage and utilities and other bills, and put gas in my vehicle. Providence has faithfully been doing this for my entire adult life… and it often occurs to me how miraculous it is that I can always rely on having “just enough”.

Did the Israelites complain that they didn’t get more, or a variety of sustenance, to keep their stress levels from going through the roof?  Of course they did. Wouldn’t you? (You’re mistaken if you say you wouldn’t.) I mean, how many ways can manna be prepared? I’m sure they got sick and tired of same old thing every single day for forty years.

Like the Israelites, I could complain. But I no longer do.

They got what they needed, not what they felt they deserved. God gave them the basics for continued existence: just enough, plus direction. I get the same and feel incredibly grateful the longer I live! It’s more than a lot of people get.

I have a strong sense that the direction God gave me at a very early age was “Write What’s In Your Heart”. Sometimes I go astray and write what’s weighing on my (headstrong) mind.

Here are a couple examples

  • I can be judgmental to a fault, especially with intolerant people. I’m just about 100% intolerant of intolerance. (Actually, I’m intolerant of anything less than IDIC, the Vulcan ethic of Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. I celebrate the diversity of life, life forms and the natural world–and find those who don’t myopic and almost fatally flawed.)
  • I find non-readers appalling, unless they’re illiterate. (Illiterate people know what they’re missing by not being able to read. They wish they could! So I feel sorry for them.) I ask you, what’s the difference between “can’t read” and “won’t read”? Not a helluva lot except that readers are missing the boat by not using the skill they developed as young children or later in life. I mention this because according to a 2003 poll by The Jenkins Group:

    • One-third of high school graduates never read another book for the rest of their lives.

    • 42 percent of college graduates never read another book after college.

    • 80 percent of U.S. families did not buy or read a book last year.

    • 70 percent of U.S. adults have not been in a bookstore in the last five years.

    • 57 percent of new books are not read to completion.

Because I’m a voracious reader, I’ve lived several thousand different lives. I’ve learned to view life as an adventure rather than a trial.

Some people consider me a Pollyanna because I have a childlike faith that, as long as I keep putting one foot in front of the other, I will eventually arrive at my destination–at which time I’ll look for another destination, unless I decide to take a side trip and that leads me in a whole new direction. Tomorrow is utterly alluring … when I’m not focusing on the current political traumas we’re experiencing.

Manna in the wilderness.

I think even atheists have had this experience, whether they want to attribute it to a universal creator or consciousness or not.

I’ve never needed–or really wanted–a lot. I have what I need (and always have, or I wouldn’t still be here!): good friends, great pets (goats and cats), a sufficiently-supportive (although far from deliriously delighted) family, work I adore (writing), and a roof over my head. And I didn’t have to conform much, or for very long, to acquire what I have.(My decade at Warner Bros. as an executive secretary, fortunately, earned me a small pension and an annuity which supplement my Social Security payments. Add what I earn as an author and copywriter, and I have just enough!)

I’ve been able to be myself (lately, my true self as a transgender individual) and discovered that those who loved me before love me still and respect my true identity. The curious ones read “Womb Man: How I Survived Growing Up in a Booby-Trapped World”; the still-undecided ones avoid reading it like the plague. (I  have no idea why, since it has helped so many people and received rave reviews from psychology majors, medical professionals, and mental health counselors). But they still love the woman they think they know, even as they’d love the man they’d discover by reading the book!

I’ll readily admit that reading a book that contradicts one’s stated political or religious convictions is never easy, but it’s often transformational–but being transformed can scare the daylights out of a lot of people. Some people don’t want to be transformed; they consider their opinions sacrosanct and simply not up for discussion. (“My mind is made up. Don’t confuse me with facts.”) I will be laid to rest by my family as a woman. They will say “she” and “her” instead of “he” and “him.” I’m resigned to that. It is what it is! So I let it go.

Manna in the wilderness.

I have been sustained, nurtured, allowed to be me, to continue to live life fully, to march to my own drum.  Why? Because my life has blessed many more people than it has hurt, I think. Providence will allow me to keep on keepin’ on as long as that baseline characteristic of my life remains.

When I felt compelled to tell a painful truth to a friend or two in the past, it caused distance and separation, to be sure, but the results were all-but preordained. Because the friends in question believed I had abandoned them for not accepting them as the “helpless, hapless victims” they considered themselves to be. I demanded accountability, I required that they take charge of their lives instead of leaning on me to provide them with the sustenance and validation they sought. My friendship and help seemed to be the only proof they wanted or needed that their lives mattered.

(I have never gathered friends as a means of validation. I’ve validated myself my entire life because so few others did; those that did became fast friends and trusted advisors because they continued to develop me, not to validate me.)

Today I have friends who disagree with me, challenge me, and make me better. The truth sets people free. It causes us to reevaluate our direction, to see if the road we’re on will take us where we want to go, or whether it will be a dead end that keeps us stuck standing before the same roadblocks that have been popping up all along the way to keep us from achieving our goals.

I haven’t stopped feeling delighted at the manna I find before me every day. Just enough for today.

I don’t worry about tomorrow because for 66 years now I’ve always had just enough.

I don’t need to keep up with the unhappy, always-mortgaged-to-the-hilt Joneses.

Just enough is enough! I’ve been able to see and embrace that fully for the past few years. I’ve stopped stressing. My job is to keep putting one foot in front of the other, doing what I love (writing for clients and my dedicated, eager readers), and appreciating the miracle of just enough.

I hope you get to that place, too, if you haven’t arrived already…

 

 

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Kris Smith

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