Two Weeks to Go

Happy St Patrick’s Day to you.  I just took off my green scarf.  Please don’t pinch me.  I was set to make a batch of soda bread but just realized I have neither eggs nor buttermilk in the fridge. (Not even yogurt.) So I guess I’m off the hook.

Are you struggling?  I am.  Thanks for your warm reception of the Holy Week by Candlelight idea.  It was a double success last year: it got me thinking about Jesus, and the children were into it.  (A triple success if we count the fact that no one burned himself.)  But this year?  We’ll be traveling, so it’s not going to happen.  Some years are like that.

I need the tulips to hurry up and bloom.

I’d love to blame my funk on daylight saving time, but I think there’s more than that going on. I am tired of myself. Tired of struggling with the same sin, asking myself the same questions Tired of sitting down to write something and ending up clicking on pictures of some famous person’s “baby bump” (and let’s be frank: half the time I’m not actually sure there’s a bump there at all– or why the person in the photo is even famous.)

So, grace. I need it. Jesus, bring it on.


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