My Southern Born Woman has been distilling her Lenten meditations into a few simple sentences every day, and I have followed her lead on this. For more information about how she inspires writers (including me), visit www.writingcircle.org.
In the midst of 40 days without half and half in my coffee and no Havarti on my burger, I can't exactly say I'm suffering. Nonetheless, here is the fruit of the first few weeks of Lent 2014.
Lenten
sacrifice… trivial gesture, a spoonful of cream, voluntarily offered
How
little can I give thee, Lord Jesus?
Spirit,
enlarge my heart.
Under
the ocean
Waiting
the resurrection
A
pearl in a shell
Pulling
the oars
My
back to my destination
Waiting
for the skid of arrival
As
a swan glides overhead
The body is its own distraction. When the body is in pain, it's
trying to call us away from mindfulness and compassion.
The knot in a twisted back finally rubbed out, and Lo how
blessed a body is to be able to stand, sit, walk, run, turn, bend.
Bless the unseen blessings.
There is only one word worth saying or hearing: Redemption.
Phil, thank you for sharing this. I am just reawakening to all that is out there. Trying to come out from under grief and loss. Being challenged as a songwriter and singer, to not retreat. Your words share about that struggle. "The skid of arrival.." a wonderful metaphor for new beginnings and finding new hope.
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