Impatience is a Virtue

I'm unable to ignore Lent when I enter the nave of Grace Episcopal Church where I worship on Sundays. The table that's normally decorated with colorful cloth and flowers is covered only by an off-white canvas. Sundays begin in silence followed by a communal confession of sin: 

Most merciful God,
we confess that we have sinned against you
in thought, word, and deed,
by what we have done,
and by what we have left undone.
We have not loved you with our whole heart;
we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.
We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.
For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,
have mercy on us and forgive us;
that we may delight in your will,
and walk in your ways,
to the glory of your Name. Amen.

During this season of Lent, it's especially appropriate that my patience is being tested daily. In the fall, I applied to graduate school, and I've had responses from every school I applied to except the one I most want a response from. No matter how much I will myself to stop checking my e-mail, I inevitably check it close to one hundred times a day. Each time is wrought with disappointment and anxiety. My anxiety over graduation only amplifies my impatience to know what's coming next. Where will I go? What will I be doing? What is to become of my relationships with friends, mentors, family? As I've reflected on Lent, I realized that this season is as much a time of impatience as a time of waiting. Will Easter come as Christ promised? Will creation be renewed? There must be a kind of holy impatience inherent in Lent. Despite my own impatience and anxieties, I am constantly reminded that apart from my own desires for my future, God desires good things for me. With the hope of that promise, I wait impatiently for the day when I can say again, "Thanks be to God! Alleluia! Alleluia!"

Slippers

:::Slippers:::

There once was a boy who worked in the SLC.

He was as cute and cuddly as a bumble bee.

At first appearance, he looks professional.

After all, his spring break planning skills are quite exceptional.

But please do not be deceived

Because I’m about to tell you something that will make you peeved

He sits at his desk with a sneaky expression

And listens to his staff members complain about their feet's compression

For under his desk, his feet lay content

Enveloped in his warm fuzzy slippers, freeing his feet from torment.

Isn’t this just SICK?!!

The culprit’s name is Nic.

 

 

 

{{With love, Leesha}}