I was made for Afternoons

O Key of David Come Mystery beyond my control Come Who cannot be boxed Come Who seeks my all, and nothing less Come who comes on the late afternoon breeze in the quickening pace of last minute shopping in excited squeals and overwhelmed tears Who comes in the midnight silence of those Keeping vigil the cloistered ones the mothers the ill in ancient words of emmanuel come.

blurry mornings  weary bones days warm  m inds slow  sitting  waiting longing heart needing  warming despite the weather that day which dawns everything still comes too quick it's surprise leaving  me breathless  solitary as if there is just the child and I as if we two can make the world whole through our shared gaze i have no gift to bring but this torn  tired  soul bent out of shape  a year of encounters leaving their mark  the child  has no wealth nothing    but love

Like many others, Lent seems to have arrived a bit by surprise this year. As I wrote on the usual social media site, I have been looking for what discipline I was going to embrace for the next six weeks. I really wanted to avoid the "give up chocolate, television, trashy magazines " mentality which seems rife at this time of year, looking for something bait deeper and life-giving. The Spirit seems to have ideas for me however, as bed bound with a virus this weekend, I rediscovered two of my heroes - John Henry Newman , Cardinal and Anglo Catholic convert, and Mother Maria Skobtsova , Paris living, intellectual, mother, and Russian orthodox nun. So using this reading plan , and the Skobtsova page above, spiritual reading along with saying the office (morning prayer and compline with the family), and making an effort to be very good and kind this Lent, seems like the way.