Wednesday in the Fifth Week of Lent
Feast of the Annunciation

Before I head out the door, I zip up my coat and make sure my gloves are in my pocket. I know it is colder outside than it looks. I am tired of bundling up. I am tired of bracing myself against the weather. I want to wear lighter clothes and brighter colors. I want to leave the house without a jacket and lift my face and my winter weary limbs to the sun.


It is truly spring now, that in-between time of cold days and warm days, of bare branches and new buds. Not one thing or the other.


I want to move ahead, I yearn to be out of this transitional time and into full spring. But this is a time of transformation. New life can’t be rushed.


I hesitate. What is there for me in this particular place? Can I linger here, pay attention to the roughness of it, open myself even more to the possibility for conversion? Can I enter even deeper into the wilderness journey when I am acutely aware that I am nearer the end than the beginning?


And in the hesitation itself, a rush of angel wings and the echo of God’s perplexing announcement of joy that asks to be believed before it is fully evident.

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