RevGal Friday Five: Mid-Lent check-in

... a RevGals invitation (from Sophia) to "check in on the state of your spirit midway through 'this joyful season where we prepare to celebrate the paschal mystery with mind and heart renewed' (Roman Missal)."

1. Did you give up, or take on, anything special for Lent this year?

• I'm entirely too good at taking things on, and with four churches I don't need to add to the list. So I gave something up: I made a commitment to regular breathing space. My aim is to have some time, every day, for quiet contemplation-- and time behind the wheel doesn't count.

2. Have you been able to stay with your original plans, or has life gotten in the way?

• I've had days that have stretched far too long; sometimes it's part of the job. But keeping the intention in mind has helped me to give myself permission for comp time without feeling as though I'm slacking. That's the hard part.

3. Has God had any surprising blessings for you during this Lent?

• I've actually had encouragement in this-- a few parishioners who are supportive and have said so. Suffice to say this is not something I take for granted.

4. What is on your inner and/or outer agenda for the remainder of Lent and Holy Week?

• Simply to keep moving... and breathing. To get it all done-- Lenten programs and bulletins and newsletters and worship and pastoral care and Holy Week and Easter-- and still have some of me left to rejoice.
  

5. Where do you most long to see resurrection, in your life and/or in the world, this Easter?

• In the world, I long for a spirit of generosity to overcome the effects of self-centeredness and greed which have been so prevalent in recent months. Personally, I want to be... inspired by godly joy. Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom.
  

Bonus: Share a favorite scripture, prayer, poem, artwork, or musical selection that speaks Lenten spring to your heart.

This was contributed to our most recent newsletter: “In A Country Church” by Welsh poet and priest R.S. Thomas (1913-2000)

To one kneeling down no word came,
Only the wind's song, saddening the lips
Of the grave saints, rigid in glass;
Or the dry whisper of unseen wings,
Bats not angels, in the high roof.

Was he balked by silence? he kneeled long
And saw love in a dark crown
Of thorns blazing, and a winter tree
Golden with fruit of a man's body.