Manna

by  Joni Woelfel

It was a nasty night out, cold and blustery. I snapped on the light switch to our outdoor flood light, illuminating our back porch where we put out food for animals. To my surprise and delight, a raccoon was sitting just ten feet away, eating table scraps. Always a joy to watch, we find the occasional raccoon that visits especially entertaining. “Hmmm,” I thought, “this one looks a bit scruffy.” As I continued to observe him through the glass door, I noticed a chain on the ground by him. “How’d that get there?” I wondered. But then, as the raccoon moved, the chain moved, too.

“No, it can’t be,” I thought in alarm, “surely not.” I noticed that the raccoon’s front leg was pulled behind his back legs as he ravenously ate, and as he turned, I saw it. A trap. It was one of those large, steel ones with ragged jaws that clamp down on any animal that perchance steps into it. The raccoon, in his desperation had apparently worked the trap loose and was now dragging it as he foraged for food. As he slunk away into the deep woods, I had that sinking, heartsick feeling one has when you know an outcome is going to be bad and there is nothing you can do about it.

The next night, I put out extra bread for him, named him Ricky and prayerfully stood vigil watching for him. He did indeed come, lugging the heavy trap, ate the food and left. I never saw him again. A week passed and this time, when I turned on the outdoor light, a friendly, gray cat with inquisitive, yellow eyes was starring back at me. As she ate the dry cat food we put out for strays, I looked down and was shocked to see that half of her front leg was missing — obviously snapped off in a trap. Compassion for the raccoon and cat, and rage towards the cruelty of traps coursed through me.

At the time, I was pondering God’s call in my life. What could I possibly learn from the raccoon, cat and the traps? Following some soul searching, the first thing I realized was that even though I felt helpless about the situation, I was in fact doing something important—the value of which I underestimated. I was putting out food.

Starving, stray and wounded animals and birds have always had a sanctuary in our back yard. All are welcome and we do not ‘choose’ who we feed—we simply feed those who find their way to us. When I think back on the many times I have felt God’s call in my life, I can see that I was being asked to provide sustenance and encouragement to someone through my own many and varied life experiences. I’ve known what it is like to feel as if you have been cut off at the knees, when our beloved teenage son, Mic committed suicide nearly seven years ago. I was caught in the gaping jaws of terror.

How did I survive? Through the care of family and the profound kindness of others who ‘fed’ me, just as they themselves had been fed when they lost a child. I went on to create my own web site ministry for survivors of suicide and I also wrote a book. Through these offerings, I have been able to feed others. Like the animals who come to our back porch, there has been no choosing who it will be. Some have sought comfort for a year or more, while others only came once. Often, I never even know who it is if they are just passing through. Through my words, I provide a meal of kind and supportive thoughts, a prayer or companionship for that day—and then they are gone.

What a wonder it is to nourish others, to be a bit of daily bread that stills a gnawing hunger for just an hour or to provide an insight that will last a lifetime. Gratefulness to the ones who have or are nourishing me wells up—and I think of God’s call in my life as the food my spirit needs every day. This call is the manna a loving God extends to me that is ever changing and soul filling.

God’s call in our lives enables us to face the traps in life that have ensnared us, and to find peace, recovery and healing through faith. God’s call teaches us that when others who are trapped in some way arrive at our back door, we can turn on the light for them, we can keep vigil with them—and we can put out food.

If they are leery, mistrustful and have been deeply wounded, we can help them feel safer by giving them the space they need, while consistently offering our compassionate presence. We can help them feel that they are not alone and we can tell them God cares and we care.

When Jesus said to his beloved disciples in John 4:34, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work,” we understand at the deepest level that God calls us to “love others as I have loved you.” When I put on our floodlight and a hungry critter stares back at me paused for flight—or when I encounter a person who is snarling because of a trap or searching for hope, I realize now that when I offer food, I am really saying, “Here, have some love.”

Reflection Questions

• Describe a time when you felt ensnared in a trap. How did you find release and help?

• Who is God calling you to provide spiritual food to?

Joni Woelfel (www.aplaceoflight.com) is the author of five books, including Meditations for Survivors of Suicide, The Edge of Greatness and A Party of One: Meditations for Those Who Live Alone. (Available through Faith At Work)