Manna in the desert of the day
This morning once the home was quiet I sat on ‘my chair’. It is such a comfortable chair. I feel supported by it. It almost wraps itself around me! I was thinking, “I could just sit here all day and watch the shadows change as the day moves.”
I would have sat there because I enjoy the silence and the peace. I did not want to be part of the stress of the traffic or more so of the vortex.
I remind myself that I write daily believing like the Israelites of old that manna will come fresh each day. I don’t think any manna would fall through the roof unto my lap whilst I sat on the chair so if I wanted manna I had to go out and get it.
As a kid, I would often pass the time by building shelters, secret dens. I reckon words and creating stories have become my secret dens. The past few days when the going has gotten tough into my mind comes writing in the late evening. Writing in the late evening is like weaving a cocoon around me, a place I can feel safe, comforted by the words and story that comes. Making sense or sometimes nonsense out of the day.
Years ago I would get stressed-out working in hotel dining rooms. At the end of the shift, I would often think, “It is only food.” These days I believe it is important that people get good service yet just like the dining rooms if there are too many punters and not enough staff no one gets a good service and the staff see few tips.
Perhaps the secret is to find that manna and enjoy. My mind immediately thinks of the friend who gave me their lunch, yes sometimes it is literal manna in the desert of the day.
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