Manna from Heaven

"It's a strange season we find ourselves living in". I think I've said, thought and text this a fair few times. There's just no real box to put this all in. There's nothing really to compare it to. It's just all a bit bizarre, and affecting us all in different ways. Or it affects us in similar ways, but on different days. Whether or not we live with people. Whether or not, we go to work, or work from home, or can't work. Whether or not, we have a garden or a dog to walk, or a bike to ride. Whether or not, we have kids, how many, how they cope, how they interact, how they learn, how they do life. Whether or not, there's two parents or one in the house. Whether or not, we have access to the internet, or enough devices, or the ability to learn without a teacher. Whether or not we're an introvert, an extrovert, an in-the-middle-vert. Whether or not we have too much time on our own, or not enough. Whether or not, we know what a sour dough starter is, what to do with one, or how long it painstakingly takes to make it into a loaf of bread.

I think we're all quite grateful for tech; the facetiming of friends and grandparents, and cousins. The Zoom prayer meetings. The Live Youtube Youth meetings. The Google Hangouts, and virtual games. The House Parties. The access to the world wide web and all it has to offer in terms of education and new ideas. The blogs, the videos, the memes. 
But I think we're also a bit done with tech; the lack of face to face contact. Being muted. Not knowing when to speak. The glitching. The freezing. The crashing. The breakout rooms.  The blogs, the videos, the memes. 

Personally for me, I have struggled to get any time alone. The little ones are up at 7am (a lie in for some mums) and the big ones are up until 11pm. And the 16 hours inbetween are filled up with so may things it seems. During the educational hours, it's juggling the needs of six individuals and working out who gets the computer when. During the creative, spiritual, emotional and physical times, it's working out who is doing what activity and in which room, with what, and with which sibling. Or indeed, who needs to be kept away from all siblings. 

During free time, it's monitoring who has become one with Fortnite, what mess has been made where, whose turn it is to do a household chore, who needs me to do the thing I put off earlier, and teaching the little pink ones that they do not need to put every single item from their bedroom in to all of their handbags. 
During the snack time, and dinner time, it's all together time, which is my favourite bit probably. Somewhere in there, there's dinner prep, and washing and texing and Instagram, and the usual 'Divide & Conquer', family warfare, as well as laughter, and "make him stop!!!" And then it's the evening, and I'm tired, but I might need to contact someone or watch a film with the teens or attempt to ask the husband about his day or reply to people, or I just simply zone out.

There were a few teary days last week, where me and the husband realised that I may need a bit of head space, and physical space. (Hats off to the single mums who crave this, and can't speak to anyone about this, let alone actually get that space, especially in this season). And I realised that with the lack of 'me time', the God time has been lacking too. Sure there's Daily Devotions, coming straight to my email address, there's Daily kids' Bible stories, there's virtual church on Sundays. There's small groups, and prayer meetings on line and there's the constant teaching of the gospel, to the kids. But there's a dryness... a lack, an apathy, a passivity, and without the necessary hunger to push me back towards my Heavenly Father.

I had a little day dream or perhaps God was speaking to me (it's harder to hear His voice, when I'm not listening) about the bit in the Bible, where the people of God, grumbled to Him and He sent them 'Manna from Heaven'. Basically like a frost on the ground when the dew had gone, and it could be gathered daily and used to bake with. I was literally thinking of everyone going out to gather their portions, and me just staying home and not bothering. Then at bedtime that evening, the girls' Bible story, was the exact same one. Mmm... 

So yesterday, I attempted to read it. There was a moment, when they all had a task to do. (Albeit the little one's task was to suck a lollipop, but desperate times require desperate measures). I was interupted by a child who wanted to share their homework with me, the same one asked when he could stop learning, one who asked if we could get a tortoise,  (I think he was meant to reading), one child spilled water on her LOL top, and another child, (or the same child, I lose count) wanted me to help her with her new Build-A-Bear magazine, which she was meant to be looking at 'on her own' I tried not to get stressed with them. Not their fault. They're trying to adjust and cope too. (Although c'mon just sucking on a lollipop shouldn't require help). 

I was in the sunshine, which definitly makes it easier. I Paused, tried again. And again. Eventually I got through the thirty six verses. I underlined one verse;

"And when the dew had gone up, there was on the face of the wilderness a fine, flake-like thing, fine as frost on the ground". (Exodus 16v14)

I was drawn to this verse, because 'on the face of the wilderness', the provision of 'manna' was there. Smack bang in the literal and spiritual sense of the wilderness, the wasteland, the dry land, the desert place, the barren land, God's provision was there. 

And the manna, the provision, was sweet (like wafers made with honey). I didn't have an amazing spiritual or emotional moment, but that one phrase tasted and smelled amazing. I guess, like food or water for my dry and thirsty soul. The source of the provision isn't in question. It's available. It's right there, on the face of the wilderness. Whether or not I actually receive that provision, or go and get it, is a whole different thing entirely. I think I will stay in Exodus 16, if I get another lollipop moment. If the moments are scarce, I may need to see where I can add more moments in. (Go and actually pick up the provision). But I think staying with this one chapter may do me good. Maybe I'll listen to it, and dwell on it, even while I'm feeding a sour dough starter. It won't grown on it's own, it needs to be fed.

Wherever I Am, There's Always Pooh

Throwback post, from eight years ago; back to when parks could be visited daily, and Antibacterial Soap was aplenty.

Last week I experienced one of those moments, you know the moments which really highlight the wonders of motherhood. I was in the park with three out of four of the boys, waiting for one of them to finish his after school club.

My almost three year old was testing to see if the boundaries of disobedience were the same in a park as they are in the house, which of course they are. I had approached him as he wasn't responding to me, and that's when I realised that he had wet himself, which may have been part of the reason for him not coming to me. (That and a slightly stubborn streak).

I explained that I needed to change his trousers, so he held my hand and we walked over to the buggy. I quickly pulled his trousers off, and it was as the poo rolled onto my hand and hit the park floor, that I realised my son had actually had more than a wet accident. These are the moments in life which no one ever prepares you for, no matter what books you read. 

I sat for a few seconds wondering what to do and gritted my teeth as another child in the park told me I shouldn't bring pooey babies there. I reached into my bag only to realise that I had made a rookie mistake; I had left the house without baby wipes! Who does that after eight years and four children? I even recently gave a mum-to-be a survival kit; consisting of wipes, anti-bacterial gel, wine, Calpol and chocolate. I could have done with this kit on this very day. 

My other two boys came to help, watch and comment on my disastrous moment. They offered to get me some leaves to clean my poo covered hand. I didn't answer them with my best motherly, calm and gentle tone. They were just being helpful, and leaves were quite a good suggestion. It was more that their 'help' wasn't adding to the situation, which I was trying to be in control of. I washed my hand with Ribena instead. I pulled my boy's trousers up and tried to pull his shirt down a bit more to disguise his mishap. I still had ten minutes to wait until the after school club finished, so the poo-child ran off to play again. I chose to delete everything that had just happened, from my mind. With my head held high, smiling at my boy, I tried to ignore the gross smell that was emitting from him, and the frutier gross smell that was coming from my hand as I waved at him.

When we reached home, I showered my son while squirting bubble bath all over his rear. I threw his pants away, replenished my bag with wipes, cleaned the buggy, and then finally an hour later cleaned my own hands; post poo, post Ribena, post bum cleaning, post buggy cleaning, with anti-bacterial soap. As I was doing so, I wondered whether there could really be a God-moment I could grasp for. I thought back to the morning when I had met with some other mums and we had looked at Ephesians 2 together.

"For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

I held on to the fact that God created us mums to do good works, which He prepared in advance for us to do. And that God's hands are clean, and if I am His handiwork, then I am made clean by Him too. Oh I know it's a leap, from poo to God. But God knew the good works us mums would have to do. To be honest, He sees all the crap! And just as I held my son's hand to walk him over to the buggy, to deal with his stuff...God holds my hand, and helps me with my stuff too.