PREPARING TO CELEBRATE

I sit cross-legged in my den, the old train table converted into a cornucopia of beautiful treats: wedges of Gouda and ribbons of prosciutto, slices of toasted bread and butter, and bowls of dark chocolate. These monthly ladies’ nights are for decadence—a chance to pause amid the busyness of life and savor food and friendship.

We call this gathering “Book Club,” and endearingly place quotes around that label to emphasize that this gathering has become more than a literary discussion. We have laughed, danced, cried, and laughed some more. I have known a few of these women for twenty years, and others for only a year, but they all share this in common: they are full of life. They are women who have struggled and overcome, choosing to take on difficult tasks while also knowing how to let go and have fun. They have fighting spirits and contagious joy. I look forward to these gatherings; they are life-giving.

On this night, I wipe a single tear and a smudge of mascara across the back of my hand. I have cried here before over shared burdens, but tonight I am simply overwhelmed with joy.

LOSS AND INSTABILITY

My early years were laced with loss and instability. The family of my youth was marked by addiction and brokenness, and I learned that I must work desperately for love while also holding loosely to it.  Well-meaning families took me in, and in their homes, I learned to perform—to strike a balance between being enough but not too much. 

I spent years trying to keep my father and only sister within reach, but addiction and mental illness were too powerful a force, and I watched these family members slip entirely away to death and estrangement.  My longing for family and community never waned, but the fear of loss would follow me into every relationship.

STRUGGLING TO CELEBRATE

Years ago, I stood in the backyard of our beautiful little home—my kids playing in the creek while my husband built a little bridge for them. My mom was visiting, and she put her hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay to be happy,” she said, and I flinched uncomfortably. Many unspoken words and truths fell into the gap between us. Soon after, I fell into a depression from which it took years to recover. When I finally had everything I ever desired, it seemed all that was left to do was fear losing it.

Recently, my now-adult daughter snuggled beside me, looking out the sliding glass door at the spectacular changing colors of the enormous elm tree in the middle of our yard. “No one has a tree as beautiful as ours,” she mused. She’s right—it’s exceptional, towering tall and wide. Chickens free-range beneath it, and a swing hangs from one of its branches. It is beautiful—and yet I can’t think of that tree without a pang of sadness.

Ten years ago, a friend pointed out the dying branches and warned that it might not survive another summer. In an instant, the tree became yet another thing to lose. Amazingly, this beautiful tree has lived ten summers since—but for me, it always hovers in the shadow of tomorrow.  How much time have I lost living in the realm of what might be?

CELEBRATING GOD’S PROVISION

On the evening of “Book Club,” I stepped back and looked at the excessive bounty I had prepared and felt dizzy with shame.  Too much, I thought. I’m too much.  I began apologizing, poking fun at myself.  A friend placed her hand over mine knowingly and said, “It’s just right. It’s beautiful.”  

Tonight, finally, I look at these women and allow myself to simply accept the joy they bring without that looming threat of loss. Beyond them, in the dark, leaves fall from the beautiful tree that I am learning to love, and from the well of my heart come these words: Jehovah Jireh—the Lord who provides.

In Exodus 16, we read about Jehovah Jireh providing for His people. After leaving Egypt, the Israelites grumbled in the wilderness because they had no food. God responded by sending manna (bread from heaven) each morning and quail in the evening. He instructed them to gather only enough for each day, except before the Sabbath, when they were to collect a double portion. He taught them to rely on His faithfulness and to trust beyond their logic or understanding.

The word manna literally means “What is it?” from the Hebrew phrase man hu, which the Israelites said when they saw the food from heaven. It was a term of confusion used for something new and unknown that God provided.

CELEBRATING MANNA

This gathering of women…”What is it?” I only know that it is a gift, and that it is enough for today. Time and again, I have suffered and been healed, been lost and have recovered.  He has always been with me.

Friendship is something I can celebrate; even more, I celebrate the healed heart that can finally accept it. I still catch myself in unhealthy thoughts (do more, try harder, be better), shoving manna into my pockets, trying to protect my next day with futile actions that only exhaust and destroy. However, I am learning to pause—to breathe in God’s truth and receive His blessings without reservation. It is not the sameness of life that makes it secure; it’s that, in the ever-changingness of life, God provides.

Jehovah Jireh—the Lord will provide!

PRAYER

Lord, thank You for being Jehovah Jireh, my Great Provider! Help me to receive and to openly accept the gift of true and faithful friendship (which reflects Your care and provision) without fear of loss. You are my peace and protection, yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Amen!

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

• How have past experiences shaped your ability to trust and be vulnerable in relationships?
• In what circumstances are you most likely to “store up manna” rather than rest in God’s provision for you?
• How can you be intentional about cultivating and truly enjoying the gift of friendship?