Wednesday of Holy Week

Did you know that this day of Holy Week used to be called Spy Wednesday?  It is a day when the Mass readings talk of betrayal.  Betrayal hurts,  Jesus was not only betrayed by Judas, but also Peter denied even knowing him while he was being tried, scourged and put to death.

We all feel betrayed, by friends, sometimes by family.  It leaves deep wounds that sometimes  never heal and leave us unable to trust.

I am experiencing a type of betrayal that I suppose is true for everyone,  my body is failing me.  I have arthritis,  and sleep apnea.  I have bad knees,  and asthma.  I suppose it just means I am getting old, but it is worrisome to know that if the day is cold and wet my body will ache and I will not be able to feel warm no matter what I do.

It bothers me to think that without a machine I might stop breathing in my sleep, but at least there is a machine that will keep me breathing, right?

I watched an amazing story on 60 minutes the other night about a profoundly autistic young woman named Carley who finally has learned to communicate with the help of a computer.  To the world she looks completely and totally disabled, but deep inside a body that constantly betrays her is a mind that is fertile and funny and forgiving.  She has now started a weblog and a twitter feed to share her thoughts, which are not bound to her damaged body, with the world.

The point of all of these betrayals though is that no matter how many things we lose us.  This is what Jesus remembered at the end when he commended His Spirit to His Father from the cross.

We may feel betrayed, but we are never forsaken, no matter how deep the wounds are.

If you can't do something one way, learn to do it another.

Pax

Stopping By Lent on a Pensive Evening

(With my deepest and most sincere apologies to Robert Frost)

Whose Lent this is I think I know.
His house is in the Heaven's though;
He will not mind me stopping here
To watch this Lent begin to grow.

My little brain must think it queer
To stop without a purpose near
setting aside chores I must partake
His presence coming ever near.

I give my weary head a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of restless thoughts and deep heartache.

This Lent is calling, dark and deep.
But I am afraid of the steep,
pathway upward that I seek,
And miles to go before I sleep.