Reflections

{These Forty Days} | A Journey Begins: Lent Through the Eyes of Mary

I started writing this story back in 2008 on my original lenten blog.  It has been on my heart, though I had set it aside.  I wasn’t sure that it was a story that anyone cared to read.  And then our hard drive crashed awhile back, I feared that the original had been lost forever.  And I let it go…  Until a friend sent me a message asking about it, and whether I had written any more.  Six years later.  It had touched her and she saved a copy.  I asked her if she could send it to me.  And lo! she found it in the archives of my old blog and sent the link.  Here it is.  I hope that it blesses you as much as it did me in re-reading it.

lavender

She stands by the doorway holding in her hands a sack of bread and dried figs, and an extra robe to keep Him warm. He has said that he must leave on an important journey, one that will fulfill the Will of His Father. There isn’t much time to prepare, and she remembers the story of her ancestors fleeing into the desert, without enough time to even allow the bread to rise. She smiles. Her heart swells with love for Him. He has grown into a fine man. Joseph would be proud.

He comes in from bathing in the well, His hair is still wet and His robe smells of lavender and sunshine, just as His clothes have done since He was a babe. Once again, her heart overflows.

“I have packed you some bread and some figs so that you won’t be hungry. And here is an extra robe to keep you warm. These spring nights can be so cold,”

“Woman”, he says smiling “you spoil me.”

“Yes, but it is only because I love you so”, Mary smiles back.

He takes the sack and the robe tenderly from her hands. She gazes up into His soft brown eyes, those beautiful eyes, then reaches up and tweaks His beard.

“Kol tuv”, she says.

He reaches for her hand, which is still resting on his cheek, and squeezes it.

“L’hitraot”, He replies with a wink, and steps out into the lane.

The neighbours are busily going about their daily business. Some look up and wave a greeting to Jesus as He sets out. Mary watches Him make his way down the street. He stops at the end of the lane to talk to a little girl. Her mother, Rivka has been very ill and Mary reminds herself to stop by with some lentil soup.

She wakes from her reverie in time to see Jesus hand his sack of food to the child, laying his hand on her head as if in blessing. He tosses His robe over one shoulder and walks on, the sun creating an aureole in the curls of His hair.

She feels a bitter sting in her nose and a tear rolls from the corner of her eye. She wipes it away with her veil, not understanding why she should be so emotional. She gathers herself, takes a deep breath of the fragrant spring air and steps back into the house to attend to her chores…

*Kol tuv – Be well, L’Hitraot – See you soon

© 2008 Nissa Gadbois

Sisters

I am an only child.  I have only experienced sisterhood through  watching my daughters. What a special blessing.

sisters2

 

sisters3

sisters

“For there is no friend like a sister
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands”
― Christina Rossetti

 

Into the Desert

Into the Desert

Lent is approaching.  It has been my favourite season for many years.  I love the long, quiet journey to Easter.  The plainness, the dryness.  The triumph of the Triduum and Easter.  Just love it.

It’s almost time to start saving onion skins for the krashanky.  It is time to pour Easter candles and get them ready to send out.

I hope that this is the year to learn to write pysanky like these beautiful eggs written by Heather of Heather’s Homestead.

Into the Desert

Into the Desert

It is time to think about how I will count down to Easter with the little ones.

Time to discern how God is calling us to be restored, renewed, nourished so that we may spend our Lenten journey growing, hidden beneath the surface, and burst forth into bloom at Eastertide.

These days of your favor
leave a blessing as you pass
on me and all your people.
Turn to us, Lord God,
and we shall turn to you. – excerpted from a meditation by Victor Hoagland, C.P

Time to ask God polish the old bloom off and make us shiny…

Into the Desert

{An old piece of denim used to polish the bloom off of beeswax candles, makes them look like new.}

There and Back Again

I’m home from my second kidney procedure.  The stone was removed {thank goodness!} and the stent is gone.  Recovery so far has been rougher than expected.  The pain is about the same as what brought me to the ER a few weeks ago.  It should improve in a couple of days.  In the meantime, I’m on heavy meds again, which makes me sleepy.

So thankful to have it all behind me now and we’re all looking forward to getting on with things!

Thank you so much for your thoughts and prayers, and especially to those who have emailed or PM’d Cat or Brian with your good wishes.

A note to those of you who make prayer shawls:  I have been wrapped in my prayer shawl throughout this recent health challenge.  It was made for and given to me nearly 7 years ago during another particularly awful flare.  I treasure it.  I can feel the prayers and blessings offered for me while it was being made, and after it was completed.  It, along with my prayer rope and the beautiful rosary tenner made for me by my friend Anne, are my constant companions in times of illness.  Just know that what you are creating is SO special.  Keep up the ministry and encourage more knitters and crocheters to join.

Nature’s Course Untrimm’d

hydrangeas

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee. – Sonnet 18, William Shakespeare

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