3.30.09
I've been spending a lot of time reflecting lately. It's something that I try to do during Lent, even though this year I'm not so much celebrating (wrong word....observing is better) the season. Last year was a total wash, as I was so caught up in losing my dad and the aftershocks...I had an excuse to stay out of my own head. (It was a baaaad neighborhood.) But I've found myself grappling with spirituality and my place in the world more frequently lately.
As I wrote a few days ago, I signed up to run a 5k. It's something that I know I can do, even though I may struggle with the training and the actual running. I went for a run the other night in my neighborhood. It was near dusk, and a light mist was falling. I took a route that avoided crossing a major traffic artery, but that ran through the parking lot of a nearby Catholic church. I've attended the church once, maybe twice, and it's not pulled me in, despite its proximity and creed, despite my desire to be pulled in. I ran through the parking lot, iPod blaring, but almost in tears...for no good reason. I stopped under the statuary in front of the church: two large stone structures that formed a curved shelter between - almost as if a tree had been split and hallowed, but the two halves were still standing.
I stood there for a moment. Just a moment. And silently asked for something, something that I couldn't articulate even if I wanted to.
I hope someone was listening.
My five:
As I wrote a few days ago, I signed up to run a 5k. It's something that I know I can do, even though I may struggle with the training and the actual running. I went for a run the other night in my neighborhood. It was near dusk, and a light mist was falling. I took a route that avoided crossing a major traffic artery, but that ran through the parking lot of a nearby Catholic church. I've attended the church once, maybe twice, and it's not pulled me in, despite its proximity and creed, despite my desire to be pulled in. I ran through the parking lot, iPod blaring, but almost in tears...for no good reason. I stopped under the statuary in front of the church: two large stone structures that formed a curved shelter between - almost as if a tree had been split and hallowed, but the two halves were still standing.
I stood there for a moment. Just a moment. And silently asked for something, something that I couldn't articulate even if I wanted to.
I hope someone was listening.
My five:
- Trust.
- Flowers.
- Allergy medicine.
- Physical wholeness.
- Hope.
Edited: I meant to write "hollowed" in describing the statuary, but after rereading it, I'm going to let the original word stand.
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