Weekly Update: 3.29.25
Heavenly Father, you have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you: Look with compassion upon the heartfelt desires of your servants, and purify our disordered affections, that we may behold your eternal glory in the face of Christ Jesus; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Collect for the Third Sunday of Lent, Book of Common Prayer, 2019
For those of us in the northern hemisphere, there is a certain poetry about the Christian season of Lent. It begins in late February or early March, when the winter's long grasp seems almost permanent. The word Lent comes from the old English lencten, which is of Germanic origin and literally means spring. The Christian observance, however, begins in the seeming death of winter. Despite the slow lengthening of days that begins in Advent and Christmas, the dark and cold is long in departing. How like our own lives, where despite our best intentions, we find ourselves thwarted by human frailties -- be they sin or sickness. And so nature itself seems to lead us through the Lenten journey. Lent is penitential, encouraging self-examination and repentance as preparation for Easter. Traditionally, Christians express their sorrow for sin, be it personal or corporate, with fasting and prayer.
It has felt like a Lenten week on our homestead. Things went wrong in many and varied directions. Conflicts broke out, here at home, but also in other spheres of our many and varied lives. Several of us were sick this week, while others dealt with more long-term health issues. Praying through this week's Collect, as well as the Great Litany, felt particularly poignant. Just as the earth needs the turning of spring, our hearts need the turning of repentance. How fitting that, on a particularly weary night, I found my prayer cycle leading me through Psalm 127:1, which has very much become my life verse -- unless the LORD builds the house.
Indeed, God is faithful. His mercy moves us forward, despite discouragement and heavy hearts. In the bunkhouse, we sisters got quite a bit done in our room. We made progress with our siding. And we made a spot for Bonnie-Jean's German Shepherd Tilde to have her nesting box -- so she can start getting used to it during the last weeks of her pregnancy.
We also made progress on our bathrooms this week. We have our second toilet installed and functioning. We painted and installed the half-bath pocket door. We also assembled our vanities.
On Wednesday afternoon, several of us started our garden -- sowing three flats of tomatoes, peppers, basil, and marigolds. We set them up under grow lights in our little office building, out of reach of our cats.
Planting a garden is a tangibly hopeful act, a submitting of ourselves to the realities of providence. We put the seeds into soil, knowing God has created a world where most of them will grow. And here again, is a thread of Lenten poetry. We sow repentance knowing we will reap forgiveness. Resurrection is woven into nature itself. Of course, the grip of the fall remains. Weeds and thorns sprout beside wildflower shoots. Still, hope whispers across the rolling Ozark hills, green once again after months of gray. When discouragement threatened me with tears this week, I found comfort as I often have in the Psalter, where I was reminded of these Lenten truths.
Those who sow in tears
shall reap with songs of joy.
He who goes on his way weeping and bears good seed
shall doubtless come again with joy and bring
his sheaves with him.Psalm 126:6-7, Coverdale Psalter, Book of Common Prayer 2019
Lent is here, but Easter is coming.
