“G-d said to Moshe ‘I will make bread rain down to you from the sky. The people will go out and gather enough for each day. I will test them to see whether or not they will keep My laws.”
(Shemos 16:4)

Once during Pesach vacation I received a letter from my place of work. A letter of dismissal. I read it a thousand times to be sure I wasn’t mistaken that it was my name that appeared there that I really was fired. And then I collapsed onto the couch and started to sob. I had small children a husband in kollel and a mortgage. What would I do without a job?
For two days I walked around feeling lost and miserable. Then I met a colleague. I had tears in my eyes as I told her about the letter.
She laughed. “That letter? We all received one. Each time they expect changes in the management of the company they send this type of letter. He wants to be covered legally. But why are you crying? Being fired isn’t the end of the world. There’s a G-d.”
It is impossible to free oneself from the nightmare of this worry except through a deep heartfelt recognition that livelihood worries the first of man’s worries do not rest first and foremost on man alone. Man is permitted and required to do his part meaning to do what Hashem imposes on him toward this end. However success is left to Hashem whose Eye watches over every house and soul and His mercy is on all His creations. (Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch on the Torah)
Dew falls each night and in the morning the sun shines. No mahn falls on my balcony. Clothing wears out gets outgrown. Shoes become too tight and sport holes. The cornflakes get finished and the electric bill is due. There’s no pillar of fire for light. There are no tents but there’s a mortgage. People worry and cry and collapse from pressure and pink slips.
And they forget there’s a G-d.
So long as this recognition isn’t planted in a person’s soul so long as a person engages in his livelihood with his limited abilities there’s no end to that worry. This worry is liable to turn his world into a desert not only when he’s walking in a desert but also when he’s deep within the world inhabited with many possessions yet also many competitors.
A person is liable to think that his worries need not only encompass tomorrow but rather his entire future and even the future of his children grandchildren and great-grandchildren. This thought spurs him to add conquests to his conquests without rest or consideration until there is no room left in his heart for any other purpose or goal. (ibid.)
The Jewish Nation was born in the desert. It was born into the mahn and Well of Miriam. It was born into the Clouds of Glory and Pillar of Fire. This was so that the Nation in its infancy would feel a sense of complete dependence and uncompromising trust.
Each morning dew falls followed by mahn and then again by dew. And everyone needs to gather it exactly according to his needs. One extra crumb remaining in the kitchen becomes moldy and wormy. And so at night the inhabitants of the midbar are without a morsel of food or one cup of milk. The house is empty.
Tomorrow all of the tent dwellers knew tomorrow there will be new mahn. Tomorrow there will be water in the well and we will live afresh. They were forced to believe. And the belief was tangible like water like bread and like the tent walls. Crystal clear.
“Will they follow My Torah?” Is the faith with which our nation was born still tangible and clear? Is it clear to us that the One Who creates tomorrow has the power to create sustenance for tomorrow as well? Do we still recognize that the same G-d from the desert continues to accompany us bringing the mahn to our doorstep each morning anew?
May we each merit abandoning our worries concerns and plans each night to feel the faith we felt in the midbar. May we merit to see how the mahn falls for our family each morning wrapped in the dew of the Creator’s love tasting like a wafer in honey.