Is anybody listening?

I often jokingly say, "Walls.  Walls.  I talk to the walls all day long."  I feel like my children (and especially one in particular!) often choose to ignore me in favor of continuing to do what they want.  My kids have perfected the art of ignoring (or at least appearing to ignore) their mother.  Many years ago I observed a friend tell her children, "Look at my eyes" when she wanted their attention.  We employ that tactic a lot.  One of my children makes immediate eye contact and listens carefully.  One of them, however, looks everywhere except at you.  When he finally makes eye contact, it is fleeting and once established, is quickly broken.  The truly maddening part of it is that when you are simply carrying on a conversation he makes eye contact with no hesitation - he just deliberately refuses to do it when he knows you are going to impart instruction or discipline.

I had the sudden realization a few days ago that I am guilty of doing something awfully similar to my Father.  When I hear the voice of correction gently speaking, I don't stop and listen in rapt attention.  I don't make and maintain "eye contact" until He finishes instructing.  I often rush on, hearing but not truly listening.  Worse yet, I am even sometimes guilty of brushing aside correction with excuses: behavior I would find inexcusable in my children. 

*Sigh*  They are such wonderful mirrors, these small people living in my house.  The things about them which sometimes drive me crazy are often just reflections of flaws found in me.  Time to make some eye contact and make sure God's voice isn't simply echoing off the walls in my house. 

Give us this day our daily MRE

Like most mothers of small children, I spend many of my days rushing around, madly trying to accomplish something while also struggling to simply sustain life.  It has become especially challenging over the last nine months since my husband deployed to Iraq.  Our three boys (Nat: 5, Ben: 3, and Daniel:1) are the cause of both great stress and great personal growth.  They challenge me to be strong.  My husband needs a strong woman, as well - after all, if mommy falls apart, who will take care of the family?  It's also my job to help keep him strong while he's facing the challenges of deployment.  I have learned that I don't possess enough strength on my own; the only way to thrive rather than simply survive (and some days even survival is hard to muster alone!) is to seek strength from God.

Many people are familiar with "The Lord's Prayer."  In one section of that prayer, Jesus instructs us to ask God, 'Give us this day our daily bread.'  I recently connected some dots which I'm sure were painfully evident to the original listeners.  Because all Jewish men at the time would have had a good basic 'religious education,' the reference to 'daily bread' would probably have prompted them to recall to the story in Exodus 16 in which God provided bread on a daily basis.  (I'm sure others have arrived at this conclusion long before I did.  Be patient with me.  Sometimes I'm a little slow at connecting those dots.) 

If you're not familiar with the story, I'll give you the condensed version.  The Israelites (Jews) were wandering in the wilderness and complaining bitterly about the lack of food.  Although they specifically named Moses and Aaron as the culprits for this lack of sustenance, they were really complaining against God.  God responded by providing (yet again) in order to prove His faithfulness and goodness.  For six days each week, God provided bread in the form of manna.  It was a bread-like flaky substance that God 'rained down' on them each morning and the Israelites were instructed to collect only what they would eat that day.  If they collected more than they would eat in a day, by the next morning it was rancid and full of maggots.  (Nice, huh?)  On the sixth day, they were allowed to collect enough to last them for two days, since the seventh day was the Sabbath - a day of rest.  On the Sabbath, the manna did not appear and the manna collected the previous day was unspoiled.  

Daily bread, in a nutshell.  Every day, God provided just enough food for them to eat.  No more, no less.  Well, technically there was more than enough, but it was no good the following day except the one day a week on which God said it was ok to reserve it.  

So what?  I'm discovering that when I ask for help, I always have just enough strength, patience, grace, etc. to make it successfully through one day of this deployment.  When I don't ask, I make it through the day, but I wouldn't classify it as a success...  (And I'm pretty sure my children would agree, since they're the pressure gauge on which this experiment is measured.)  I can't hoard spiritual nourishment and expect it to last me an entire week - each day requires a new recognition of need, a new request, a new filling.  

The Israelites spent quite a bit of time wandering in the desert.  Today, my husband is sitting in a desert.  Some days, the landscape of my emotions is practically a desert.  So where do we find the source of strength to keep going?  Where is the encouragement, the hope, the nourishment?  We're an Army family (Hooah!), so I pray that just as God gave the Israelites manna in their wilderness, He will provide a spiritual MRE for my favorite Chaplain in combat boots in a desert far away and for me, the girl who's holding down the fort here at home.