Lenten Hope, Lenten Joy

i

40-day journey to the cross.

I posture my heart.

I posture my soul.

Face down- yet

lifted

(high)

ii

I clasp hands earnestly

and beseech

for joy and hope

at the table gathered

with children.

In the morning.

I pray.

iii

Later.

It is afternoon.

And, I am jolting

forward. stop. forward. stop.

hurtling jaggedly home

two cello players car (in)side with me.

and suddenly...

I am deliciously

captivated by the

word

incandescent-

incandescent... distilled to me from a moment

in a beautiful song. 

(I would never have found but for the son by my side)

iv

We are almost home- and oldest cellist and I study quickly

to gain the full understanding

of this lovely, lovely word:

it speaks to me.

  1. adjective incandescent: 

(of light) produced by incandescence.

glowing or white with heat.

intensely bright; brilliant.

brilliant; masterly; extraordinarily lucid:an incandescent masterpiece; incandescent wit.

aglow with ardor, purpose, etc.:the incandescent vitality of youth.

God, I love this song.

“Magic Mirror”

 

O, profound song. Speaking to me.

 

Inside, I weep.

And-

I joy.

v

Later, (on the road again) I ponder how that word

incandescent

thrilled me to the toes

and how

for a brief

whiff

of time, I felt so joyfully alive.

And, I’m grateful.

I think on… what makes me feel alive.

vi

I find myself stepping

into Target.

Target, of all places,

and… once again-

the joy is

rising.

a glimmer, found for me

among little girl dresses

with unicorns

and spring themed

garments hanging like

hope

in pinks, greens, purples, sky blue

and of course,

(silver and gold)

sparkle

for some reason

I am happy.

 I am happy among the spring themed atmosphere of Target.

I tell my son, and we laugh.

Target can do that to a lot of people, we ruminate.

As we walk out, the smell of coffee fills the air, and I fill my lungs.

With that good smell.

vii

In the car,

I realize

that I prayed,

in the morning

I prayed

for the reality

of joy

and the reality

of hope

and that we would ponder the way to the cross

and 

the joy of resurrection.

 

The truth is-

it has been a rare day that

I have felt the free joy

I found today.

I don’t take it for granted.

I am grateful.

O sun, O spring, O-

thankful for hope

and

feeling

for

goodness, joy, and life.

And knowing it is true.

viii

I am looking for Spring.

I am looking…

I am looking for my Savior,

lifted high.

I am looking

in the faces of the

ones around me-

and I am remembering,

to

pray.

Face down

yet lifted

(high).

 

The Things We Say

At the table-

at the end

of one long day.

Sweet son and I.

Mulling. Ruminating. Discussing… yet – one.more.time.

We had spent most of the day in Virginia just outside of Harrisonburg. And, O! the memories for me on that drive south. Mountains, beauty, rural countryside. And, Virginia.

We immersed briefly in a different culture while there. In his words, “it was rural.”

And, we ponder.

“It was just a different culture…” he says- “those 8 muddy jeeps and the off-road militia shirts on the guys [from the red-clay caked jeeps] coming into the restaurant [where we stopped for dinner]”- “West Virginia/Virginia signage with the big, black guns.”

I nod and laugh. The jeeps were lined up in a row next to our big, white van.

We head home and the minute we cross the Maryland state line- we are swept into the aggressive traffic. Maryland drivers! It’s a real thing. The pace of the freeway; the spirit of the drivers; the angsty need to keep up, keep on. It was distinct. Even if we hadn’t seen the sign, we would have known. Maryland.

“It’s just a different culture,” he says.

I listen. I nod.

I say, “And what did you think about that culture?”

He shrugs. “It was just different.”- not quite willing to put into words all that it was and all that it wasn’t.

Then, I say, “Maybe you should go to PA,”

[PA is codeword for Pennsylvania by people from there in case you wondered- and maybe didn’t know..]-

and- [he has some possible college choices there].

We look at each other.

In unison,

“It’s more chill there.”

We laugh.

The Things We Say.

output