Come quickly

Lent.

The season of waiting--of endlessly waiting and being reminded that I am: waiting. For Pasca. For Christ. For salvation to sweep across us again. In flesh I may be--sequestered--off in the mountains, surrounded by fat, lush snowflakes falling from the grayed sky and the tired clouds. Surrounded by the warmth, the welcome, the love of the Protestant faith and hospitality. Of family encircling a dinner table, listening to a child reading and learning from his "Children's Bible."

Of those parents telling their children they should be like "my boyfriend", should desire that same selflessness, that same attentiveness, that same desire to Learn, to Understand the God and Creator of us all. Of me sighing: agreeing.

In flesh I am the former Protestant, familiar things but in heart I am the latter: the Love, the Wonder, the Journey into ... the Lenten season.

And they ask me to pray and I say: okay. Bow your head before the Lord and whisper to Him your shouting fears, for He Hears--He Hears,
and I Listen. I obey.

Come quickly, my King.

In Lent my soul Longs to cease Waiting, to Welcome.
To prostrate before the One, beside the Many, among the Few
who Know and are Known and long to
be Understood in the mind, in the Eternity
of Our Creator.