A Lenten Discipline
This year, I will focus on creating
and appreciating creation.
It is too easy to be morose,
to think about our frailty and failings,
both individual and collective.
We are reminded of this
on the incessant evening news.
Three young Muslims were killed today.
A tank car carrying crude oil exploded.
The cease fire is not holding.
Congress has reached an impasse.
The soundtrack of human suffering
plays on the car radio
as we commute to and from
the daily grind.
The numbed mind doesn’t see
the beauty of the young deer
foraging for food,
nibbling on branches
in the waist deep snow.
The numbed mind doesn’t see
the high five
the homeless man gives
to his buddy
who just got a job.
I will remember moments in nature
walking home alone
beside the frozen stream
and pausing to look
at the perfect pattern of ice
jutting out from a rock.
I will remember visits to the museum
walking reverently
towards the masterpiece
and standing to soak in
all the beauty someone else
had managed
to mingle with paint
and adhere to a canvas.
I will remember the cathedral moments
of childhood;
transcendence, and wonder,
of something greater than myself
in crowds of people
like me and yet not like me.
I will remember quiet moments
of childhood;
when I was hurt
or failed
and someone said,
“I love you.”
This year, I will focus on creating
and appreciating creation.