It’s hard to repent when it’s 70 degrees.
Even when it’s raining.
Because at 70 degrees rain is exuberance and blooming and it’s worth getting wet for 70 degrees.
And there’s the point. This doom and gloom idea that I have of Lent, of disciplined life, is all, all, wrong.
Repent means turn. And you turn at 70 degrees, turn to find the source of the heat and the light and the water. You turn in unseasonable, unreasonable, unlikely circles. You turn.
I turn, I hope, and new vistas open up, as I duck under the brim of my hood and try not to slip on the sidewalk. As others rush by with their umbrellas or their rain coats. Mine is a bright yellow hoody that laughs even as it covers.
Who wears bright yellow during Lent?
And there’s the point. This doom and gloom idea that I have of Lent…
But still, it’s hard to repent when it’s 70 degrees.
