It is the first day of spring, according to some calendar I saw somewhere, and things are opening. Everywhere. Conversations, hearts, rain clouds, and the chestnut leaves begin their cycle again and remind me that once more a set of decisions must be made soon. I have seen them turn from green leaves to naked branches, from nude branch to full flower, from full foliage to full leaf and from solid green back into the closed brown of winter.
I have just begun to listen to Jars of Clay again, hearkening back to high school nights spent in my cold, basement work space, and "I've got a question....Where are you?" As we head further into the guts of Lent and hurtle towards Easter with a speed I do not recognize, I feel that question deeply. Oh Christ, that You would once more be made flesh if only to stand here alongside me and my other opening questions.
...mas se fue desnudando y yo le sonreía
se quedo con la túnica de su inocencia antigua. Creí de nuevo en ella.
(...she undressed herself further and I smiled
she remained with the tunic of her old innocence. I believed in her anew.)
