a child through the window

we are talking about fasting, she and i.  we are smoking outside, drinking wine and talking about jesus on the eve of ash wednesday.

“when you fail at fasting during lent,” i say, “that’s kind of the point.”

i’ve never been impressed by the idea of the lenten season.

“we try to give up something and when we mess up, give in – whatever, we feel like failures.  but isn’t that the point?  we need jesus!”  i conclude satisfied.

i inhale deep on a cigarette i stole from a friend’s open car window.  i’m a sinner.  always have been, always will be.  satan can’t take that precious bit of truth away from me with a pious lenten season.

she’s regarding me, like she always does.  somehow i have been given a new friend, a true friend.  her voice is quiet when she says it.

“but what does that song say?  just a tiny sacrifice…” and i hear her.

tiny.

sacrifice.

the insignificance of the small.  i tend to stare at the big picture.  god deserves my every breath, not forty days.  i prefer giving up big things.  move to the city?  ok.  homeschool a child.  will do.  but the small?  is it so small, i’m missing it?  like him.  like jesus?

this spiritual discipline takes a thing away so time can be spent looking at the one.  i fear turning my friendship with jesus into a calendar of dates.  but this is life and sometimes if i want to see my friends, i need to write their names in the planner.  so what of it?  what about writing jesus in the next forty squares of the calendar?

small things find their way into my heart in a way big things can’t.  like a child through a window to unlock the door.  a grown up can’t fit, so stand on my back and crawl in. there are doors i can’t open in my heart and maybe a tiny sacrifice this season can turn the lock.

this season i’ll be fasting from facebook.
i will post my blog links there, but forgive my lack of response to
any comments on that site.

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