It is quite providential this difficult season started at the same time as the Lenten season. Bonnie Smith Whitehouse says, “And more than any other season in the liturgical year, Lent invites us on a pilgrimage.”
About a month ago, I was sobbing on the phone with a dear friend discussing whether I should hospitalize my husband. Now, I know it was the best decision for the year. We are choosing to remain cautious and appreciative today. Lots of listening, lots of resting, lots of slow indirect progress.
Nothing of the last thirty-seven days has been routine, my world up-ended by brain chemistry gone askew.
The tears,
the attempts,
the tissues,
the emotions,
the continual need for grounding.
Maundy Thursday is one of those touchpoints. The human King of Kings stooping into the dust and dirt, an action reserved for servants, to gently cleanse the feet of His confused followers. A simple meal of unleavened bread and wine, laden with tradition, births a sacrament carried into the Church today. This day is a grounding place for your spirit.
“Though we betray him, though it is the night,
He meets us here and loves us into the light.”
-Malcolm Guite’s poem “Maundy Thursday”
Sit to meditate on Christ’s humanity. Maybe draw yourself a small bath to soak your feet and envision a Savior, you’d soon be demanding the crucifixion of, brush the earth from between your toes. Your heel resting in the palm of His hand, unbroken flesh caring for broken souls.
Leaves on my hanging fern unfurl on each branch. Tightly tucked in a spiral, always growing towards the sun’s rays just beyond the window pane. In order to continue photosynthesis, he’ll need to release those new leaves – so he bends the spiral sunward to collect all the light possible. Tenderly striving to be closer, slowly.
Our pilgrimage is not quick or easy.
We continually sojourn after the rays.
Bent in awe,
humble me.