Bridge Out

What a wild ride the past few weeks have been. My computer crashed, cutting off my usual command center. At the same time, an old friend, lately out of touch but eternally dear at heart and permanently iconic in my life story, died suddenly at age 53. It's as though the expected bridge from a few weeks ago to now was washed out and I've taken a detour, one day's walk at a time.

Isn't this what we all do? Even at the times when we presume to plan our days and weeks, even when the auto-pilot of ordinary days suffices to take us from morning to night and back again, an infinity of variables is at play. In the words of a wonderful old speech, we walk in ways we know not. We take a step and seek guidance, take another step and thank God for being sustained. In an environment where our own vision is inadequate, faith reaches forward to grip the opposite cliff.

On Wednesday we'll enter the season of Lent, a time weighed down with traditions of moping along to the tune of a dismal dirge, and of sacrificially giving things up for the 40 days, often replacing them with a pitiful air of deprivation instead of an intensely private discipline of self-denial. It's easy to end up resenting the whole experience.

I prefer instead to address Lent as a journey. On a broad scale, it's a time to take a step and give thanks, take another step and seek guidance, reach beyond ourselves to grasp with faith something beyond our vision.