End of Lent

"Oh my God, can I complain
You take away my firm belief
And graft my soul upon your grief." --Jars of Clay (I think)

"Yet Love will dream and Faith will trust,
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.
Alas for him who never sees . . .
Who hopeless lays his dead away,
Nor looks to see the breaking day . . .
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith,
The truth to flesh and sense unknown,
That Life is ever lord of Death,
And Love can never lose its own!" --from "Snowbound"

Musing...

Oh my friends...
It is late. I am tired. My mom looks very cozy in her bed, and I'd like to be too...but it takes too long to brush my teeth. Would anyone like to join me in boycotting daylight savings? Just for fun? Doesn't it feel like there should be another day between Sunday and Monday?
And aren't Sundays strange? The more in tune I think I'm getting with resting and community, the harder Sundays seem to be...such a bizarre combination of rest and stress, delight and frustration that goes along with being human and loving other humans.
The terrible clarity of having the heavy burden of loving others thrust on you and realizing that you can carry it.

And I wonder if the first thing we will notice about heaven will be the smell, the smell of good food cooking.

Okay. Goodnight.