“It will rain down bread from heaven for you.” Exodus 16:4
In the hot dry wilderness, cracked lips, wishing there was enough water to sweat. No cows or goats left. No friendly stream gurgling nearby. Dunes tease the eyesight, looking like waves, reminding you of what you miss most about where you came from. Step out of the tent. What is it? People gather up armfuls and devour it, looking like starving hyenas. Flakes on the ground, we crave a feast and He gives flakes. It tastes like wafers made with honey. What is it? Only enough for a day. Forty years of daily bread.
I can’t stop myself. Thinking, what is it? Thinking of foreshadowing. Thinking it might be cheapening the starvation and desperation of the Israelites to put my own narcissistic twist on this. But, perhaps it is a type. My skin craves real sunshine. I crave life. I stay up late laughing with a glowing rectangle. No voices, no twitching corners of the lips, trying to suppress laughter, just words exchanged, inflection carried in punctuation. Life is deserted.
I line up with the other starving masses. Solemnity reveals us in the true state of our souls. Our posture changes from overfed and in control into hands cupped timidly, begging for a scrap of something substantial. I crave a feast and He gives me flakes. It tastes like wafers made with honey. Only enough for a day. What is it? There will be more tomorrow. Two thousand years of daily bread.
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