Will no one give us meat? Think of it! In Egypt we had fish for the asking, cucumbers and water-melons, leeks and onions and garlic. Now our throats are parched; there is nothing wherever we look except this manna. Numbers 11:5-7

During my time in South Africa from 1997-2000, I tried to place my faith in God's knowing what was best for my life. I tried to hand over my life to God when I accepted the African call. Most of the time, I felt a freedom unlike any I had known before in my life. At St. Frnacis, Walkerville, each day as I walked down the hill from the Rectory to the church, I felt the hand of God leading me each minute. At time went on, though, nagging doubts began to plague my mind. Was I forgotten back home? How could I have given up everything for this? Was I crazy? Like the Israelites, I couldn't see the manna before my very eyes. Leave it to nature to give me the answer.

Many evenings in South Africa, our cat, Mr Kitty, would accompany me down to the church for an evening meeting. While I was inside, he would sit perched in the tree outside the church doors. After the meeting, as I turned the lock in the church door and turned to walk back up the hill to the Rectory, I would hear a small thud as Mr Kitty jumped down from the tree to accompany me back up the hill home. There was no collar or leash on My Kitty. Like most cats, he just did what he felt called to do. Some nights, we would pause on the hill together. I would look at the dark sky, studded with bright stars. I would find the Southern Cross. I would also find Orion. And when I would find Orion, I would feel a pain in my heart for those across the globe that were seeing Orion as well. I would miss home. I would forget about the Southern Cross which over centuries has guided sailors on the ocean. I would forget about my home in Christ in Africa. I would forget the freedom. I would forget Bryan, Jack, and Anna. I would feel bitterly alone--even with God rubbing my ankles with God's furry side. In Africa, God was like My Kitty--always there close by.

We all are the Israelites at one time or another. We get stuck in the "if onlys." If only we hadn't left home where there were blessings a plenty. We forget that we were in slavery in our former situation. Right in front of us is the real blessing, the blessing here and now, and that's the only blessing that we really have.

One evening, I was driving a member of the youth group back home. His name was Vuyani. Vuyani was about 19 years old and grew up in the townships. He lived with his father and was trying to find himself. He was not in school at the moment. He emanated a slight, seething anger, but there was gentleness in his eyes. There was a beautiful orange full moon lighting our path. I said, "Oh, there's the man in the moon!" Vuyani said, "What are you talking about?" "The moon," I said, "In America, we can see a face in the shadows on the moon and we call it the man in the moon." As I looked at the African sky, I realized that I didn't see the old familiar face staring back at me. In the darkness of the car, Vuyani pondered this idea for a while. Then he said, "Ah, here in Africa, we often say the bunny in the moon." As I looked, the moon from the Southern hemisphere did have shadows that ressembled a bunny--with two long ears and a tail. After another moment, Vuyani added, "But my mother used to say that there is the mother with her baby on her back in the moon. And I like that better." And again I looked. And instead of a bunny, yes, I did see the outline of an African mother with her baby tied with a towel to her back. An African mother that kept her baby by her side all day as she carried water, cooked mealie meal, washed clothes, walked miles along the dusty Johannesburg road. In her work and all her daily struggles, the baby was never forgetten. Mother and child were as close as breath. Tears welled up in my eyes that the darkness hid. We reached Vuyani's gate. "Goodnight Vuyani." "Goodnight, Mother Martha," he said, as he blended into the darkness. On my way home, I had trouble watching the road. I couldn't take my eyes off the African mother and her baby shining down on me from the sky.

Text: Numbers 11

Pondering: Where are your "if onlys"? Where do you get stuck in how things used to be? What is right in front of your eyes calling you to the blessing of the present?

In Christ's Love,