And How Was Lent in 2015?

Better than 2014!

Last year I was sick for all of Lent -- the kind of humbling you really don't want to say anything holy about.

This year, the flu shot from last autumn worked; I did not catch so much as a sniffle, for which I am truly thankful. And I went into Lent prepared with a Lenten resolve: Not To Be So Spiritually Lazy.

I subscribe to this great publication, Magnificat, which has morning and evening prayers, a daily meditation, the readings from the Mass of the day, and inspiring stories and essays. This year, I decided to use that prayer guide as a means to put prayer in its proper context.

What is the proper context for prayer? Because God is All in All, Creator of Matter and Energy and Time, and because God is aware of all his creations, I believe there is nothing more important in our lives than prayer -- communication with God.

As God holds all of Time in His presence, when I communicate with God, I communicate as well with everything else. Maybe it's a little like being in a choir: perhaps your voice doesn't stand out -- but then, in a choir you don't want to overshadow the other singers, just make a greater music with them; perhaps your voice isn't as good as the clear sopranos who carry the main melody, -- but your voice is still a contribution. The "music" reaches out to the whole audience -- some of whom are checking their cell phones for Tweets, some of whom have fallen asleep, some who have eyes on their companions, wondering if they still love them, if they're wearing underwear, if they're picking up the tab for dinner after; some are checking their watches to see how much time they still have to spend listening to the music.

The thing is, while I commune in prayer, it doesn't matter if no one or nothing else seems to be impressed, or hear me. The communication itself is its own validation.

Because the One who always hears, always listens, always whispers back ... is God Most High.

It was a good Lent. Upon awakening, I would tell myself every day that there is nothing I can do that is of more importance than prayer ... and by the end of Lent, I could see that that was true.

Thanks be to God, alleluia, alleluia.

In

Today is the last Wednesday of Lent. Tomorrow is Holy Thursday, and the beginning of the Triduum. I began Lent with a fever, and am trying not to be annoyed that I'm ending Lent with another one, after years of not getting sick. 2014: The Fever Lent.

I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. It's making me remember this Lent, which could be good; the last Lent I actually remember was one during which I walked every day, praying the Rosary as I strode along with Howie on his leash. Before that, I don't really remember Lents, except for 2001, when I slept on the floor and kept a dream journal -- which proved fruitful for me. But I will remember this Fever Lent.

Focusing on the Ignatian Examen as much as my fevered brain can, I've tried to let myself get away from thinking that this world is the reality of mankind. It isn't. It's a construct, much like the world of The Matrix. (At least the first one in the trilogy -- the other two were just stupid.) We move through it, but it isn't what's real.

Or better said, it isn't what is ultimately real.

Anyway, the Examen begins with this sentence: "Recall you are in the presence of God." Now somehow, that calls to mind being in the presence of the King, or maybe being called before the presence of the judge, as though we stand before God. God over there, us over here. We are in front of God. We are in God's room. God sits on his throne and smacks his head over the idiot standing with hat in hand bawling, "Please, Massa, don' beat on this poor old sinner!"

Phraseology can be tricky. What if the word in that sentence -- "in" -- was the focus?

God is not over there or apart from us. God is All in All. There is no "place" that God goes away to when he's tired of hearing us whine; indeed, God doesn't get tired.

The presence of God is what is real. I need to recall daily that I am in that presence. Embedded, carried, held, -- inside, not apart. Not standing in front of, not down on Earth looking up at clouds wondering if God is reclining up there, not on the other side of some impenetrable wall. This creation is God, held in being by God, and I am in that.

For me, this is a good thought to carry away from this Lent. 2014, the Lent of Fever and In.

At Last, Rain

I've been praying for rain, even just a little shower. The Valley air has been so dirty that all of us have been suffering from sinus irritation. Last night, our prayers were answered, and we got that little shower. What a beautiful sound to wake up to: raindrops on puddles.

By afternoon, the rain had stopped, and the black phoebe that usually is our harbinger of rain showed up. We laughed and chided him for being a bit late on his forecast. However, about three hours later, the sky darkened and it began to rain again, indeed, to pour, putting an end to Bernie's tile-cutting outside.

The tools were put away, and then the gutter filled up and overflowed onto the sidewalk, the back patio was under about half an inch of water, and the rain still came down. I went out front with a rake and cleared the storm drain, and John got a shovel and dug a trench on the south side of the house to drain the back patio, bless his heart.

Thank you God for the rain.

Caught Up in a Whirlwind

Thousands upon thousands of fragments spiral around you, catching the light on their shiny-sides, contrasting with the deep blue sky with their golden harvest sides, sparkling, flying, sailing, dazzling, twenty feet wide, seventy feet high ...

We picked Lillian up at her rural charter school and for a change of habit, took Division D road to take us home. On the way, we saw a farmer on a big tractor tilling his field, which had recently held rows of corn. The chaff of his corn-cutting mixed with the dirt, and the breeze conspired with the  fragments to produce a dust-devil, dancing and swirling only about 50 feet away from the road. We stopped the car (there was no traffic behind us) and watched it glittering.

With amazement, we held our breaths as the dust-devil headed toward us, carrying the shreds of cornstalk leaves; with awe we looked around us and up through the Vibe's moon-roof to see the dust-devil move over the car in its mini-tornado, sparks of light and dark and tan weaving through the air above and around us. Within minutes, it had jumped a levee and went to play among the trees along the river.

In 59 years of life, I have never seen anything like that. Inside a dust-devil, who could have thought of such an event. O God, it was so beautiful, thank You for such a blessing.