Again Lent has come to an end and I have been less intentional than planned.

I have no excuses.

The constant nagging at the back of my mind and heart – a nagging which seems to be a reminder to remember Jesus’ journey – has replaced all of my plans.  Sometimes I feel these naggings and feel guilty for my seeming inability to act upon them, but perhaps if I give myself a little grace, these reminders might actually be recognized as intention – a subconscious focus pushing through to my day to day. Reminders to journey with Jesus, to be like Him, and to live in constant thankfulness that I do not have to complete the journey toward death without resurrection because Jesus completed it first.

Instead of choosing some overarching focus and intentional practice this season of Lent, my practices and reminders (those nagging feelings) have becoming part of the small things I experience constantly in my day to day life.  Reminders to be thankful right alongside a deluge of struggle to practice a life of grace – to reach out in peace before walls of misunderstanding rise up, to cry for the sorrows of others, for the misdirection of nations, and the hopelessness of a world torn by avarice and war.

Following the journey of Jesus into the final days of Lent reminds me of the long-term and ever present reality that is human brokenness – of our inability to recognize perfection let alone achieve it  – of the repetitive nature of human greed.  And yet, I try to focus on the thankfulness – grateful for Love and Mercy and Grace – a hard earned Truth nearly always ignored or willfully unidentifiable.

Lenten and Ordinary small wonders – my reminders – Peace breaking Grace and vice-versa:

• rain on the metal roof of the overhang out our window
• warm clothes to keep out the cold
• running shoes
• bike paths
• friends who love and support and cheer even when I’m running in circles to complete a marathon whose finish is unknown and ever moving – whose finish might be just another start
• new, very old books
• the sound of typing fingers
• headphones and the click of the keyboard – and a voice that can’t stop humming along with the tune
• squeaky violin strings
• lost in the music and forgetting to strum the strings
• pitch pipes
• thoughtfulness and hard questions
• community within community within community
• an inability to separate life in sectors
• baptism
• roses
• new and old lives
• new notebooks
• old notebooks
• roses in the yard and on the table

and a thousand more reminders.

Risen Indeed.