So I was standing in Mass today, watching my four-year-old wield a palm leaf weapon during the really really REALLY long Gospel when I realized something: Where did the rest of my Lent go?
I was expecting to be in labor this week. As it turns out, and because of circumstances I’m not quite free to write about just yet, I’ve been holding that baby in my arms for weeks already. We’re almost used to him, for crying out loud!
There’s this saying that different people love to toss my way about how you can make plans and make God laugh. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ha, ha. Verrrrry funnnnny.
And yet, I can’t help but feel the truth of that little saw.
Here we are, on the cusp of Holy Week, and I feel like I cheated on Lent. (God willing, I’ll have a chance at it again next year. And the year after that…)
The kids are on spring break this week, I’m going to be taking on a few work projects, and there are a few spinning plates in my personal life as well.
In the midst of all of that, we’ll be pausing, wrapping things up in this year’s Lentivities.
During that long Passion reading at Mass this morning, my four-year-old turned to me.
“Next week, HE’LL BE ALIVE, won’t he?”
Can I tap into that excitement, that enthusiasm, that passion? Can I look at the Crucifix and know the Truth of it the way my four-year-old did this morning?
Boy, I’m sure going to try.