ELW #801, our last Lenten hymn.
I'm stuck in some blue, maybe even maudlin mood at the moment, contemplating the end of Lent and the subsequent approach of Holy Week -- and me without any answers ("to life's persistent questions" -- where's Guy Noir when you need him?)
I know what this mood means too -- it means I deserve a good kick in the head, metaphysically speaking, and I just hope it doesn't have a negative affect on anyone I care about. This mood, I mean, as well as the pending boot.
My assignment for next week, as I said somewhere, is to get busy meditating on the line "It is finished." I don't know why I picked this one. My 'supervisor' was surprised as well.
Holy Week means we're rocketing towards Time After Pentecost again, the long green season of unchanging paraments and liturgical experiments. (Not that I'm against either intrinsically.) The seasons of the church are dominating my life, even my artwork -- somehow I'm feeling both drawn to and oppressed by all that.
And apt to brood.