Monday Manna

Waiting time = Transformation time

If you are new to Monday Manna, I’m so glad you are here. My prayer with this little pause on Monday mornings is to offer some nourishment (“manna”) for you — via my reflection, prayer, and painting — as you are nourishing the world around you. Together, we are watching for the ways God is with us and for us as we take one day at a time….

I’ve been returning again and again in recent weeks to this verse…there is something so tender to me about this image of God being the “lifter” of our heads, no matter how low we feel….

Good morning, friends, and grace and peace to you in this fresh month ~

It was a longer break from Monday Manna than I had intended as our family succumbed to influenza A (a true beast this year!). It added more than an influential dynamic to what has already felt like a slog.

For a couple months now, I just haven’t felt like myself. I am continuing to deal with a running injury, and the long recovery with the sickness all coalesced in making me feel just not at home in my own body.

When I’ve experienced periods like this in the past, my normal response has been to focus on gritting through—simply holding on until the thing I was waiting for came. But this time, I’m sensing the Spirit’s call to embrace life’s disruptions, pauses, and winters as opportunities for greater healing, loosening, and transformation. And as one of my friends beautifully said, we can be soothed by other things when we have to wait for what we know. It’s all asking me to delve deeply into some attachments and questions.

What do we do when the people/things/rhythms we normally depend on aren’t there?

How do we navigate life when we’re waiting?

How can we embrace the transformational power of “waiting time”? What do we hold on to?

As I’ve been asking these questions myself, I’ve noticed many around me in their own times of waiting, and how there is a collective experience of unmooredness (is that a word?) with the unraveling happening in our national landscape.

I have likely shared this favorite poem here before, but I read it again the other day. “The Way it is,” by William Stafford…

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among

things that change. But it doesn’t change.

People wonder about what you are pursuing.

You have to explain the thread.

But it is hard for others to see.

While you hold it you can’t get lost.

Tragedies happen; people get hurt or die;

and you suffer and get old.

Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.

You don’t ever let go of the thread.”

We have very few guarantees on this side of the veil, but the one unbreakable one we have is the presence and love of God with us, and that resurrection always comes. This is what is empowering me in my own waiting. And it feels timely as we embrace Ash Wednesday in just a couple of days, followed by the coming weeks of Lent — a time when we collectively wait together, embrace our frailty, and trust Easter is coming.

This promise is the thread we hold onto…what we press ourselves into as so much around us and within us changes, while we are waiting for new life to come. When we are waiting — when we don’t see what’s ahead — we hold on to the thread. We know we won’t get lost, and that this Spirit-of-God-thread always leads us somewhere beautiful, even if it’s different than what we thought it would be.

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A Prayer

This prayer from my book, Ash and Starlight: Prayers for the Chaos and Grace of Daily Life, Second Edition, grew from this theme of waiting — and how waiting times are transformational times. As the earth prepares for spring and is full of growing buds, recognize this power and preparation in your own life. God is at work in you….

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When I need fresh faithfulness while I wait

Strong and stable God,

I am waiting—

and I hold the waiting of

those I love.

We wait for healing,

for guidance in the big decision we’re facing,

for a relationship to improve,

for the job opportunity to open,

for the person we long to marry,

for the child we crave to conceive,

for the news we ache to hear,

for the answer to our questions,

for the end to all kinds of oppression

and the rise of a world set right…

We wait—I wait—dear God, for you!

For some kind of change in my life

only you can bring.

For a shift in my foundations that

frees me to live abundantly,

differently, authentically…

I wait and do not despair

because of your goodness.

I wait and do not give up

because of your hope.

You are planting in me the seeds of

perseverance, dependence,

contentment, and trust

that will one day blossom with

a beauty beyond my imagining.

And, so, even in the bud,

in this shell of confinement,

I trust your Spirit is at work,

feeding my growth.

Keep me faithful in the waiting, dear God.

And, do not delay.

I pray in and through

the One for whom I wait.

Amen.

Psalm 27:14 * Psalm 40:1–2 * Psalm 62:1

“Wait for [God];

be strong and let your heart take courage…”

—Psalm 27:14

This large canvas is in our living room — our family members’ footprints and handprints are in the background. This verse has become a touchstone…

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Something that nourished me recently…

*On our trip to Pittsburgh this month to see family, we sang this song by the Porter’s Gate while visiting my sister-in-law’s church. It wasn’t until afterward I learned of the powerful story behind it. A full-sized sculpture of Christ was created in Italy and purposefully installed at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea. My kids have asked, “Mom, why do you keep listening to this song?” It has reminded me again and again of how in our lowest places, Jesus is there — beneath us, holding us up.

*Also at her church, I saw this incredible piece of art tucked away in their chancel area. One Ash Wednesday during COVID, members of the church were encouraged to bring a piece of dishware — a bowl, plate, cup, etc. They then hit and broke them into pieces, symbolizing the fragility of our own lives. A local artist in the church took all the broken dishware and created this stunning mosaic of Easter resurrection. It spoke to me of how the broken pieces in our lives are never the end, and that when we share our brokenness together as a community, God makes something beautiful.

*Seeing my dear friend, Beth Meyer (also on our trip to Pittsburgh). Beth, and her husband, Bill, had an enormous impact on my life for so many reasons. If it hadn’t been for them, I might have still gone to law school instead of Taiwan, which is where my life trajectory changed. Bill’s funeral was just a few weeks ago, and I give thanks that he is tasting the resurrection and freedom for which he waited a long time.

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Ash and Starlight, plus other good things…

*SECOND EDITION OF ASH AND STARLIGHT ~ Find the updated edition of my book here at Chalice or at the Amazon link!

*MONDAY MANNA ARCHIVES ~ You can view previous Substack Monday Manna reflections as a paid subscriber here, or for the really old stuff, go to my website.

*WHAT DOES MANNA MEAN? ~ Check out an earlier post to learn how this little bit of “daily bread” got its name…

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I’ll leave you with the beautiful words from a deep soul friend who found the most exquisite bouquet of flowers titled “Spring Promise.” She said, “no winter without spring; no death without resurrection.” With you in the waiting, friends…Christ holds us.

Love and Light,

Arianne

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