Ruah Bull - Spiritual Director

 It is my Lent  to break my Lent, To eat when I would fast, To know when slender strength is spent, Take shelter from the blast When I would run with wind and rain, To sleep when I would watch.  It is my lent to smile at pain But not ignore its touch. It is my Lent to listen well When I would be alone, To talk when I would rather dwell In silence, turn from none Who call on me, to try to see That what is truly meant Is not my choice. If Christ's I'd be It's thus I'll keep my Lent.

 We are emptiness like hollow in the reed, the narrow riftless emptiness which can have only one destiny: to  utter the song that is in the piper's heart. ... The reed grows by the stream. It is the simplest of things, but it must be cut by a sharp knife, hollowed out, stops put in it. It must be shaped and pierced before it can utter the shepherd's song. It is the narrowest emptiness in the world, but the little reed utters God's infinite music. We are lifted up and carved out, formed and shaped and filled with all the music of the earth.