The stars are again bright tonight, before I see the moon rise high. All is still. All is quiet. To be honest, I am not particularly in a noticing mood tonight, my mind paints broad brush strokes, intricacy is missed.

There are explosions of activity, in which I think non-stop, on various topics at once, fully engaged, life is itself caught up totally. All the peripherals, my hopes and fears, fall to the wayside. Once I stop, though, it all catches up, and I droop like a flower past bloom.

My last week was like this, in apparent and unapparent ways. Tonight, after an intended day of rest which didn’t turn out to be that restful, I feel the droop.

At moments like these I must arrest my thoughts, stand against my leanings, and say I did what was right and good in the moment, contributing and doing all I could. That is all. And then I must move on.

This is the danger of a task oriented life, I revel in the task, then feel empty once done. I want both acceptance and ‘well-dones” while at the same time wanting to hide in my cave until everyone goes past. I feel vain and shy all at the same time, wanting people to know, wanting no one to know. Conflicting emotions all at once, making an uneasy heart, for with such conflict there can be no satisfaction.

I consider whether this is because I do not presently have an acceptable way to feast or celebrate. The season of course is against this, completely and absolutely, until Sunday. So liturgical I feel exactly as I should, I suppose… conflict, angst,…

As I’ve said before in other contexts, I can only do that which is on my heart, pursue what is before me, pray that God is continuing to work and lead. Whether trails go to the palace of peace or run into no where, stopping suddenly in the middle of a dark forest I still must follow as I’m told. For even the empty trails have meaning, meaning which I do not, maybe can not know. I only know my part, and I feel faithful in having done it in various ways. So, having done my part, I must continue to stand. Hoping beyond all hope, praying when there is nothing to pray for.

Tonight is the night when Jesus broke bread with his Disciples, including the one who would a few hours afterwards betray him to death. All was at peace at this moment, though Jesus knew what was approaching. He feared it, he was nervous, he did not want that cup. But he stood, continued to stand through it all, through all the night, through all the next day, through the grave on Saturday. The salvation of Christ came not when we would expect it, it came two days past when we thought all hope is lost.

A curious thought in our own trials. God saves, hallelujah, just often not when we think he should. I continue to run the trails before me, knowing God leads even when they disappear and I have to turn. There is nothing else.

Tonight we celebrate a false peace, anticipating both death and life. All is not as it seems, then or now. Makes one remember to keep one’s eyes on the prize.