The Missal is packed. It will make me feel connected to the Universal Church.
The nine-day countdown to Lent is here. Ordinary Time is giving way to Lent. Everything green is turning purple, liturgically.
I will arrive in Israel to the green of Ordinary Time and return home to the purple of Lent. Perhaps receiving the ashes at Notre Dame du Lac chapel. A massive effort to fast in the land that has always been a place of feasting for me.
This time is different. There is no agenda. Nobody to keep up with.
There is only grace. The Lord. The Church that traces her story back.
There is only a desire to be present to Him. To linger as long as it takes to know He is ready for me to move along.
An aloneness that is not altogether alone.
Would that this fire had already begun.
There is a yes inside me that is so loud you must be able to hear it, no matter where you are. There is nothing else.
So many are praying for my safety, asking if I ever feel afraid there.
Let me come to you and share about this journey, why it is so much more than all of that. Why grace is all there is. Why I cannot help myself. I must go back.
He is there. This is my retreat. This is my respite from all. This is my journey to His Sacred Heart. This is my dance with all the Bible stories I have ever heard. This is my song of songs and psalm of praise and ancient lyrics of the Ancient of Days and new words that spill from my own heart today, tomorrow, these nine days.
I don’t care that I ramble.
It is a rambling of consolations, and they can be so infrequent in some seasons of life.
Jesus, all for you. I trust in you. I need you. Need. You.
Let me come to You,
and let me be found.