… the season of Lent falls on the down spin of the euphoria of Christmas. There’s also just a long enough gap from that time to the start of Lent to make us really good and sick of winter. At the beginning of every Lenten season I vow to devote all my waking hours in ceaseless prayer, doing this or that act of charity… only to have my enthusiasm never make it more than a week or so. Than I spend the remainder of my time beating myself up for being a slack Catholic.
Then I wallow. Then I beat myself for wallowing. It’s a vicious cycle.
This year it’s my dear friend who is pregnant and has yet to return my calls. Other than a mysterious text some nights ago asking to be left alone while she figures things out there has been no communication. This stirs so many differently feelings for me… and I just find myself wishing that right now I could speak to the one person who understands.