Great Lent…

I’m meant to attend a service tomorrow, the last day before the start of Great Lent. I’ve been emailing with a new friend, someone who strikes me as kindred in some very good and holy ways…artist, mother, wife, outspoken and funny… And I wake up today with a raging headcold. There are no accidents, you know. This was well planned by my body, extremely well planned. I’m not saying that I don’t…

tongues…

I’m back on the Jesus Prayer most of the day. Constantly…moving my lips along with the words, silent on my breath…when I’m driving, when I’m typing, when I’m trying hardest not to lose my temper or lapse into future living instead of the now…present tense… The Jesus Prayer is always present tense. Today, sitting alone while the kids were all out playing I clung to my quiet house, my warm coffee cup,…

pause…

I ran into a wall this weekend and now I don’t want to pray. I was speaking to someone recently about my journey. She was interested in it as well and I think she had hoped I would be able to enlighten her on some of the finer points…which is crazy…because I know so little. I’m a terrible spokesperson for Orthodoxy. The most I can say is that I feel more stirred…

remedial…

cross posted with http://www.mrsmetaphor.com remedial… Where matters of faith are concerned everything is remedial. I have become a pilgrim of sorts in the last six months on a road I never imagined myself taking. The destination is not new. I can easily say that meeting God on a regular basis has been the destination that I look toward. I’m all about it. In my best moments I suppose I thought I was…

fits and starts…

Perhaps that is what this journey will always be, fits and starts. For someone who likes to think of herself as “even keel” this whole fits and starts business is frustrating in it’s utter inefficiency.  Can’t I just speak whatever words are necessary, have a priest slap some oil on my head and be done with it? Why does this have to be complicated? I’m complicated…but not really. I dreamt last night…

church…

It’s easy to skip church right now. I confess, it’s possible I’ve used our relationships with the people at the Presbyterian church as an excuse to not attend Divine Litury up to now.  I’m so conflicted on Sunday mornings. I wring my hands and wander around the house just looking for someone to tell me to go or tell me to stay home or tell me to leave everyone at home and…

hungry…

Bad news for the potential pill popper part of me, the one who had hoped that one day the blue pill would finally dispense me from the hard work of faith… I’ve picked up a book by Alexander Schmemann and the first line reads, “Man is what he eats…” No matter where I turn I find I am facing this very thought. I am a function not merely of what I say…