Lent has a way of stretching time.
At the beginning we step into it with intention. Ashes on our foreheads, a promise in our hearts. Forty days feels manageable then — purposeful, even energizing.
But somewhere in the middle, Lent becomes quieter. Less dramatic. Less defined. The early resolve softens and something else begins to emerge: curiosity.
That’s where I find myself this week.
I don’t feel overwhelmed. I feel attentive.
I know my purpose deeply right now. I am sharing faith. I am creating with locally sourced materials. I am living and teaching the 100-mile life. These things are not burdens. They are invitations.
Yet Lent still whispers a question:
What is the rest of this season calling me to?
Not necessarily more effort.
Not necessarily more sacrifice.
Just deeper listening.
For many of us, Lent begins with giving something up. Sugar. Social media. A habit that has grown too comfortable. And that can be good — it clears a little space in the soul.
But as the weeks unfold, I wonder if Lent asks a second question:
What might you embrace instead?
Perhaps it is:
- embracing stillness instead of rushing
- embracing gratitude instead of worry
- embracing the quiet beauty of ordinary days
- embracing the small circle of life close to home
For me, that may mean sitting a little longer with my spinning wheel. It may mean using my spindle and feeling the rhythm of wool. This wool was grown not far from where I live. It may mean noticing the grace in everyday meals, simple work, and the land around me.
Lent is not only about letting go.
It is also about making room for grace to grow.
Grace in our faith.
Grace in our work.
Grace in the way we live on this planet.
So this midweek in Lent, I’m not adding another rule or giving up another thing.
Instead, I’m asking a quieter question:
Where is grace inviting me next?
Maybe that is the real journey of Lent. It is not rushing toward Easter but walking slowly enough to notice the grace. This grace has been with us all along.
Grace has brought us safe thus far.
And grace will lead us home.
Blessings,
Grannie Doll
