All who wander are not lost.

They wandered in the wilderness in a solitary way; they found no city to dwell in.

Hungry and thirsty, their soul fainted in them.

 Then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them out of their distresses.

And He led them forth by the right way, that they might go to a city of habitation.

Oh that men would praise the Lord for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men!

For He satisfieth the longing soul, and filleth the hungry soul with goodness. Psalm 107:4-9

Hans and I put in eleven long hours yesterday.

And it was all the detail stuff, hooking up the brand-new gas stove. Plugging in the coolest refrigerator I have ever seen. Touching up the paint job for the fourth time. Hitting some hidden spots in the built-in bookcases. Tightening the bathroom cupboard doors. And dousing the endless forests of wood detailing and doors with Murphy’s Oil Wood Soap, scraping at dozens and dozens of paint drops with our fingernails because that is really the only thing that works: 98 years of paint drops.

I know that my favorite thing about 39 is the fig tree sheltering the north-facing front porch. And every single day it bursts out bigger and greener and fuller of fruit. And oh yeah, the two huge flowering pomegranate trees and the flowering vines climbing everywhere.

  

For the LORD your God is bringing you into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and springs, flowing forth in valleys and hills; a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates. Deuteronomy 8:7

And I walked home last night from the song and dance and poetry and shadow theatre celebration of the Barrio Stories. And oh yeah, little girls in braids were rolling out tortillas to be cooked on a lid-from-a-fifty-gallon drum colmal, and even though they swelled up mightily, I gotta say that -four-year-old Anita’s tortillas were rounder and bubbled up even bigger. And I had to resist the temptation to take away the wooden pin and show them how it’s done. I have rolled a lot of tortillas in my day.

And the streets were very quiet and very dark, and I could see the bright stars and the quarter moon up above. Which reminded me of other peoples and other promises that were made as they gazed upward. And today I read in Exodus how Moses set up the tabernacle that declared God’s presence in their midst… and he reared up the tabernacle, and fastened his sockets, and set up the boards thereof, and put in the bars thereof…which sounds an awful lot like Hans putting together my brand-new gold brushed steel frame bed, except four of the screws broke on him. 

And when Moses finished his work, the cloud of the presence of the LORD descended and filled that place.

Dear LORD God, I know not the future. But I trust that You are faithful, and You satisfy the longing soul and fill the hungry soul with goodness. 

I praise You for Your wonderful works beyond my understanding. I welcome You into my home. Fill this place with Your presence. I will fix my eyes on the cloud of Your glory and trust You for the right way.

Selah.

“As the Arabs say, "The nature of rain is the same, but it makes thorns grow in the marshes and flowers in the gardens.” Anthony de Mello

Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me. Amen.  Psalm 51:21-23

As you begin this journey of Lent, you must start with rending your heart—tearing it from self-absorption and binding yourself (mind and devotion) to Jesus. Regardless of your current state or your proneness to wander, you must “Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love” (Joel 2:13). After all, Lent is not about your faithfulness, but rather about the faithfulness of Jesus on your behalf. He is the faithful One! -Journey to the Cross: Readings & Devotions for Lent 

Tearing my heart from self-absorption. This is the rending that needs to take place. It is those who are self-seeking who are promised wrath and fury. Yet His kindness leads to repentance.

And I think about that “prone to wander” phrase and man, I have a little gamboling lamb heart, hither and thither, rather than the calm steady cud-chewing I long for.

So I am very grateful for those chorus-writers; like the piercing version of Keith Green singing, “Create in me a clean heart, O God,” so that the plea can follow me throughout the day, weaving itself in and out of my thoughts. And I am very grateful for the reminder: Lent is not about your faithfulness, but rather about the faithfulness of Jesus on your behalf. He is the faithful One!

And God has been whispering to me these months about what tearing my heart from self-absorption might look like, and yesterday I gave it away to a little sixth grade boy with waist-long dreads standing in the hallway named Xavier. He declared that we were going to have a great time in science class.

And I toured the classroom yesterday, looking through the empty cupboards and weighing the stacks of ripped up notebooks leaning up against a few empty beaker stands on the back counter. And smiling and waving at Ahmed El Abdalla and Maryan Abdullahi and Bringas Borboa and Aliyah Carrillo as they sit at their scratched black lab tables and do yet another President’s Day Word Search.  And my mind hummed with the equally haphazardly stacked up heaps of middle school science lesson plans filed in my little laptop, starting with Mr. Bowen’s first day task of drawing a scientist. I am so good to go. 

Sort of. Although there is nothing in me that thinks that this will be easy, as I watched the assistant principal calm down another long-term sub anxiously pacing the hallways, ”I just had to walk out of the class before I smacked someone.”

And every afternoon Nicole who is teaching on the other side of the playground, comes home dog-eared tired, full of breakthrough moments with Saul and Cristiana and Kahlil, but also full of those unhappy moments where deeply wounded children lash out. And she makes the dozens of phone calls home. And visits the bedraggled trailer parks and group homes and tiny little apartments draped in beautiful hand-embroidered fabrics just like a desert tent. And she spins out new plans and clever ploys and colorful posters to tell each child that he is beloved. Because it is not about her, the cupbearer. And late last night she posted this truth that she proclaims every day: It’s not my job to change you, but to love you.

 So I feel called by His voice to enter another stage of sabbatical, taking a rest from Me, Myself, and I, and by serving up cups of water to the least of these, I will see His face. And feel His pleasure. And abound in His joy.

And I won’t even pretend to be able to memorize all 150 names. But I am writing up my prayer lists this afternoon with Jenny at Beyond Bread after the Ash Wednesday mass.

Selah.