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First Sunday

I made it to the last Sunday mass at the church in our village, and like Ash Wednesday, my attending the service was equal parts pain and comfort. I couldn't wait to get away, but I was among the last to leave because I stayed to pray.

I met a woman over the weekend who once shared the story of her being broken so she could be someone new, and I wondered if that is what is happening to me, although in a smaller scale. 

There is nothing huge happening in my life; there is just this dark cloud hovering that on some days become too heavy. I ought to let it just rain. Maybe that will make it go away. Maybe that is what I am preparing for--or praying about--this necessary rain.

Today, the priest said we should Stop, Look, and Listen. I thought it corny, until I remembered that a friend I talked to about my Lenten journey suggested as much. More than the abstinence, more than the fasting and sacrifice, he said, it may help to just be still and observe God's presence in my life.

Today, too, a line from a song that was sung during the mass stayed with me: give me a new heart. 

I want a new heart, God. I'm willing to wait until Easter.

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