it just doesn't feel like Lent

One day this week I was looking at the calendar and thought to myself, "It just doesn't feel like Lent."  Compared to the past few Lenten seasons in my life that have been REALLY desolate, I feel fine.  That's good, right?

Sort of.  It's still the time of year that Jesus spent 40 days in the desert, being tried and tested in preparation for His upcoming ministry.  How can I find the desert place when everything around me is springing life?

The answer is to stop looking around and start looking inward.  That desert place still exists in my heart, looming not so deeply below its surface with tangled roots that anchor it straight into my soul.

Several years ago, in the quiet early dawn hours, I made a covenant with God.  It wasn't out of desperation and it wasn't planned, but I made it.  I have been following through with it in obedience of mind and body.  Because God wants to bless me.  Because it will heal me.  Because (insert whatever) me. ME.

Now that the anticipated fruit of this covenant is nowhere to be seen, in the midst of this abundant life (I didn't ask for THOSE things) I find myself asking God,"What have you done for me lately?"  (I asked for this OTHER thing, I frequently remind Him).

Firmly, quietly, the response to my cry is,"You have been faithful to the promise for your own sake.  Now will you be faithful to it for Mine?"

Here is my answer today, Lord:  Yes.  But I am entirely dependent on You because I don't know how to live out this promise I made, how to love when I don't want to, and how to surrender control and let You work through me, instead of trying to work You into me.

See you on the other side of the desert.

mirror

remind me Lord

that this life

is merely a mirror

dimly reflecting all

that is to come

that as i struggle

to unravel

unseen mysteries

i am known by you

that there is peace

in that promise

and in that peace

love abounds

both for me

and through me

the same

i had the best day with you today

wintergarden

wintergarden

is not

death

but

holy rest

before the promise

of new life

in the spring

rouge/red

il n'y a pas

des mots

pour mes rouges

ce soir...

(there are no

words

for my reds

this evening...)

   so i simply

rest

and soak them

through my skin

In response to February's "Red" poetry prompt at T S Poetry Press

what beauty is for

“And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?”

Mary Oliver

walking by a window

sunlight refracts through

antique glass

there is no time but

i pause

tilt my head

absorb perspective

***

once i pressed my lips

to the top

of your head

and breathed in

the tiny fierce

so delicate so determined to

make a move in this world

chestnut waves now

hide this monument but

i remember

***

broken open

weak and empty

but there is your

warm wordless hand

covering mine

until

i breathe

***

one man saw

water and sky and trees

reflect each other and back

but nympheas float

surely at the surface

separating illusion from

existence and

i weep

***

beauty is for learning growing loving

beauty is for living

linking today with

rebel

"If a woman rebels against high-heeled shoes,  she should take care to do it in a very smart hat."

George Bernard Shaw

...or a shock of pink hair.

my inspiration

to choose courage

Tori, then age 14

Linking today with