The Shrove Tuesday pancakes and sausage sit in by gut as I surf the web seeking ideas for a Lenten Discipline. What should I give up? What should I take up? I’ve thought of reading some mystic. I’ve thought of reading some poet.

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn

Perhaps a little T.S. Elliot? Perhaps The Cloud of Unknowing?

After pancakes at church this evening, we burnt last year’s palms for tomorrow’s ashes; the cycle of another year complete.

It seems as if each year, Lent becomes harder. I become more aware of my own short comings, my own frailty. I read the news and become more aware of how broken this world we live in really is.

Tomorrow, I will be reminded again, that I come from dust and to dust I shall return. I’ll pause to think of those who have returned to dust and my friends that mourn. Then, I shall do my exercises as I wait for spring, as I wait for Easter.