Don’t be shocked to see another post from me within 24 hours. I’m trying something new. Something extra. Trying to fulfill that “hope” business.
Morning prayer is so much clearer when watching the sun rise out 0f the ocean. Where could Lenten discipline possibly be in such a beautiful site? By practicing discipline, of course. By reflecting on what is before me. By paying attention when I’d rather be sleeping in or zoning out. An email from home reminds me that God is redeeming my headache in God’s way, on God’s time. There’s always time for thankfulness and praise.
I am visiting with old friends, those dear people to whom I fed the splinter-laden cheesecake 42 years ago. On our first night together, we shared a store-bought rotisserie-roasted chicken and fresh asparagus with a bottle of pinot noir. Nary a splinter in sight, a lifetime away from an apartment over a garage. I am thankful.
Last night, it was bittersweet to sit down at a table with just the three of us, the fourth chair empty, as if waiting for Elijah to pop in and join us at any moment. Like Elijah, The Veterinarian’s spirit hovered in this place that he loved and in the stories that we told, but there were also new stories, as we have each moved on to new adventures and new bottles of wine. I would say “Hallelujah,” but we don’t say “Hallelujah!” in Lent, so I’ll just whisper, “Woohoo, Lord!”
This morning, we’re making French toast from last night’s leftover bread and wondering what the day will reveal once we deal with a problem in earthly Paradise. There’s a screw stuck in the rental Mini-Cooper’s tire, which must be resolved before we can take off. I’m the tour guide. Do we search for blue iguanas? White sands? The sun is shining; the breeze is warm; and the dive boats have gone out. Something wonderful will be revealed today, as it is every day, if I just look.