That’s how I feel some days.
But it’s good! It’s all good! I can honestly say that this Lent’s going well.
(If by “well” I mean that I’m failing miserably. I’m failing miserably at doing penance because my penance is always food-related and I do NOT do well at food-related penance. “Hi, my name is Margaret and I’m addicted to food. Please tell me to stop using Lent as a 12-step program.)
Meanwhile, my love for Our Lord–my need for Him–is growing by leaps and bounds with every fall, and maybe that’s the point of all this? I know it is. I have faith that it is. We hold out our hand and we look at its five fingers: “You…did…this…for…me.”
I need more than 40 days to get it but I won’t–we won’t–until we see the big picture.
Speaking of pictures…
I’m still taking lots. That kid in the photo holding his beloved St. Joseph? He cracks me up, and is infinitely patient with his momma’s photo-taking.
Well, almost infinitely.
Yesterday at Mass I slid him a book during the homily. My husband’s not crazy about kiddy diversions during Mass, so I try to keep the extracurricular reading to a minimum. Except yesterday, I forgot to take the St. Joseph picture book back, and was kneeling in prayer after communion when…
“I’m done, Mom!” he announced, quite loudly.
“Got any more for me?”
And this kid…
My goodness. I’m old to be doing the mom-of-a-2-year-old thing but I am loving the sweet innocence. “Good morning!” I say, scooping him out of his crib. “How did you sleep?”
“In my bed,” he says.