stillness and baked oatmeal

“Whenever we feel lost, or insane, or afraid, all we have to do is ask for His help. The help might not come in the form we expected, or even thought we desired, but it will come, and we will recognize it by how we feel. In spite of everything, we will feel at peace.”
― Marianne Williamson

today i decided to do yoga before i practiced centering prayer.  i figured i could get the practicing going, and i'd create enough open space to glide into my attempt at 10 minutes of pure, quiet stillness. i think this was a good plan, but i quickly learned that i'm able to set my breathing on the meditative words of: on inhale- 'only in You', on exhale - 'is true peace', and still think about how much i'd like to make the baked oatmeal i'd had this weekend and wonder whether i had any soymilk to substitute, and remember i only had chocolate soymilk....not so good...anyway....'is true peace'.  i only made it 5 minutes- but i'm still practicing.

now the baked oatmeal is in the oven, the kids are in school, florence went down to the market and i have more than 5 minutes of a different kind of stillness. the empty house kind. the kind i crave.

yesterday after picking up the kids and driving around with them for another 20 minutes looking for a specific bank to pay the tariff on our most recent care package-and failing- i arrived home with three annoyed kids- due to no package retrieval- one just woken up 3 year old- and a car full of melting groceries. the kids all wanted a snack, of course from the goodies which were still in the car, people had created an obstacle course with their backpacks and belongings along the exact path from the front door to the kitchen door, and zoe was refusing to let rose see her painted rocks from art class.  my phone beeped and i had a text from a friend that her child was complaining of a racing heart and chest pain- ie: not the kind of medical complaint you can just blow off or put on hold. florence was around but folding socks and not cluing into my imminent breakdown.

i had a moment.

the day had been peaceful.  it's not that i felt out of whack or that this was the straw that broke the camels back - it was just that everything in that moment was out of whack and overwhelming and i felt a little bit insane.  so i asked for help. i asked God, and i asked florence, and it wasn't long before i felt back at peace again.

mike and i've decided that we want our kids to have inside them, valuable pieces of wisdom that they can pull out when they are feeling the crazy or the fear or the isolation that comes in this world.  we want them to learn the words of God. 

last night at dinner we were reviewing this weeks verses and i think someone asked what manna looked like- as in the food from heaven given by God for the israelites as they wandered the desert.  so we read the story and talked about it.

it reminded me of the double promise.  we get the 30,000 foot view promise- global provision, non-abandonment, forgiveness, love.  and we get the 24 hour promise- right now, today, in this moment.  but there is no promise of what happens in between the global and the specific.  God doesn't map out a plan.  she doesn't give long detailed directions, she just gives one, "go to the end of the road and wait, i will tell you then what to do next." the israelites were only allowed to gather enough provision for that day( except on the sixth day when they'd gather enough for the sabbath too).  no more. it was about trust.  it was about obedience.

God could have given them a giant storehouse of grain or manna or whatever and they could have looked at it, and been satisfied and known that clearly, as evidenced by the silo, they would be fine.  but.  he said:
"i'll take care of you always, and here's enough for now."
"be satisfied."
"be obedient."
"trust me.  can you trust me?"

this is the help, but not in the way we want it- not in the way we were expecting it. we want our manna all at once, we want to see all the provision, the full resolution of a problem, the cure for the cancer, the end of the learning disabilities, financial stability.  we don't want "here is enough for today- don't worry about tomorrow." 

but that is not his nature- because he's relational. because he loves us and wants our trust and our conversation and our asking for help.

it's not easy, but it's beautiful.  it's ongoing.

i wonder how many of the israelites went to bed wondering if tomorrow there'd be manna again?  i wonder how many of them went to bed and forgot that it was even a big deal that food came down from the sky- how many took it for granted.  because even in the times when we are walking in those places of daily dependence- we STILL forget to trust, we still worry, or we forget to be thankful, we forget there is miracle. 

i wonder if the manna was like my delicious baked oatmeal that i'm eating now.  i wonder if my 5 minutes of centering prayer opened me up to remembering the miracle and the promises and the peace.

inhale "only in You"
exhale "is true peace."