Friday in the Second Week of Lent
O God, you know my foolishness,
and my faults are not hidden from you.
I look at the date again to make sure. Still only the second week of Lent. How can that be? In so much of my life time seems to be rushing by, anticipated events suddenly over and done with, and yet while it seems I have been forever in this season of yearning, I have made little headway.
Some days I look at my work—my home, my profession, my avocations—and think I have realized little progress. Despite effort and determination and the aspiration to make something good, I see only what unravels and sputters out. This does not lead to despair, but rather a wonder. What is this all about? How do I make sense of the world? Where is God in all of this?
And because I know of no other way, even this I offer up to God. My foolishness. My faults. My limited vision. My lack of movement. In a life of pilgrimage, I have spent a lot of time in the wilderness. You think I would know how to traverse it by now. Rather it still holds mysteries and trials and open spaces and false trails and moments of doubt and moments of wonder.
I lift my face to the breath of God and cast my questioning heart once more into the breach.