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So, magnoliadave called my bluff. Of course I didn’t wait until a Sunday feast day to eat that ice cream cake. OK, I’ll also admit: Chef Carolina, our creative daughter who is finishing culinary school, hand-crafted marshmallows for our Saturday-night pleasure. Clearly I am not one to “give up chocolate for Lent.” But, I do have arthritis. Refined sugar inflames me. I hurt. Maybe this is a nudge to use the Lenten structure—six days for fasting then Sunday—to calm these fake flames? Maybe I will draw closer to God as I come clean?

My current mantra: Many love and care for her (as in, not only egocentric me.) Thank you thank you thank you.

My prayer partner noted that writing is nourishing for me. Plus it doesn’t have calories. She knows how I struggle with my sweet tooth rather than appreciate that part of my body as I should. After all, it has been so deliciously good to me over the years. So, what would you do with a hand-crafted ice cream cake, personally delivered on Ash Wednesday? Oh, I know. The scheme of Sunday feast days during Lent springs to service. Poof! Temptation practically evaporates.    

Rob has gone to see his honeys, thousands of them. The honeybees, hunkered together on the cathedral’s roof, might give him a sign. Otherwise we are not certain the hive thrives. He’s learned after years of losing colonies during the winter not to open the hive. It’s tempting to break the interior beeswax seals to peek in. Instead Rob bought a stethoscope so we might listen in from the outside. But wait, is that the hum of bees? Or the freeway below? Regardless, have faith! The bee doctor is in. Together we will hope and wait.   

One thought was to spell out how this book became part of my Lenten practice. All those details fall away if I am honest and just say it: Howard Thurman is here with me during this season too. I am grateful he is part of these 40 days.