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When Moses crossed from the desert into the land of milk and honey, there must have been some joy, along with some confusion and a little grumbling. I would suspect that the promise of plenty always brings that.

Few of us have the same perception of plenty and easy. Sure, those abstract words slide off the tongue like butter spreading across fresh bread, but that may not be an accurate depiction. That picture implies warmth and comfort and the magic “feel good” that appears with minimal effort.

My guess is that when Moses and his peeps found their new homes, there was work to do. Those big ole grapes required care. Wells were dug. Plowing, planting, and hoeing became common chores again. And those sheep-herder clerks must have grown weary sharpening and resharpening pencils as they counted the lambs and did the math. In fact, they all swapped blistering heat for bigger blisters. Words like ease and plenty didn’t slide off the tongue like butter spreading across fresh bread. They slid down their faces like sweat off the brow.

Some embraced the time and effort that led to families putting food on the table and finding their place in the community. Those people faced hardships and toiled to make ends meet just like everybody else, but resilience was a common strength. There was an abundance of work, and the families were fed.

Others lost sleep conjuring up concerns that multiplied the real struggles.

* Gee, the cows gave more milk when we first arrived.

* The grapes were bigger and sweeter then.

* The creek flowed uphill when people were too weary to fetch a pail of water.

* Maybe they decided to pray to the gods of those before them to cover some of needs.

Playing both sides at the same time wouldn’t hurt too much, would it?

Well, I’d like to have the dignity of those who kept the faith and stood tall against the elements and invaders and emotions that come into our lives in one way or another. I don’t expect anyone to part challenging waters for me or to put manna on my plate. Whew, that slid off my tongue like butter off fresh bread, didn’t it? If those words were completely true, I probably would not be purchasing a “land of milk and honey” lotto ticket upon occasion. Let’s be real. Free sounds great.

I haven’t won the lotto yet, but neither have I tried to conjure up extra concerns to add worries and stress. No winning ticket would stop our worries, but the windfall would be welcomed. Truthfully, family and friends and students have always made me feel comfortably rich. When days have been tough, they’ve shown up. They guided me by example, have been generous with support, and shared kindness all along the way. Some have made me wiser.

For example, in my early years in the classroom, I remember meeting the first of many a student who was a better writer than I will ever be. In an essay he used the phrase halcyon days.

Intrigued by the unknown, I picked up whatever version of a "Funk and Wagnalls" that was available. Halcyon days meant a blissful, carefree period.

The phrase refers to a time when a goddess in the form of a kingfisher was about to lay her eggs. Her husband calmed the winds and the sea so that she could lay her eggs safely on the beach. For a few days the world was peaceful and carefree.

The land of milk and honey offered hardships and blessings the immigrants, but it was a better place than they had been. It’s also a great concept for us, but it has some rough roads too. After all, there are always bumps and ruts and storms to be navigated, but life hopefully offers days of comfort along the way.

Occasionally, the world can be peaceful and carefree, but we have to work for that possibility and those moments every day. Let’s roll up our sleeves right now. If we can’t get the milk and honey today, we can at least start an effort for Kool-Aid and cookies.