The signs of spring are everywhere – in the crocuses peeking through last week’s thin layer of snow, in the quiet chirping of bird songs at dawn, in the earthy scent of fresh soil. “It’s coming,” my daughter said, looking out the window. “There’s a glimpse of green on the bushes.” Yes, just a glimpse, but we know that foreshadows the beauty of the coming months. A sense of renewal surrounds us as winter fades, no matter how long or hard that winter was.
While these harbingers of spring greet me at every turn, I know even more joy is to come as Easter approaches. The outward signs of Lent, however, are so much harder to find in the turns of our secular world. Once the ashes fall from our foreheads when Ash Wednesday ends, the sights and sounds of Lent are rarely visible outside of church. How easy it is to get caught up in all the other pleasures of spring, leaving the observance of Lent to Sunday Mass, fish dinners, or an occasional Friday Stations. An unexpected turn down a side street one morning last week – a detour due to fallen branches – led me past a home whose residents had exactly that outward sign I needed to see.
\Just back from the road, anchored by several large rocks, stood a large simple cross, its wood weathered and gray. Gracefully draped over the horizontal sides was a long scarf of royal purple, softly blowing. A vine wreath resembling a crown of thorns hung near the highest point. A strong symbol of Christian faith. A bold statement of Lenten spirituality. I slowed down, hoping to look more closely. With cars behind me and a schedule to keep, all I got was a glimpse, though maybe that was enough.
I hadn’t planned to take that road; the detour led me there to catch just a glimpse of those reminders of Jesus’ sacrifice, of the renewal soon to come. That unexpected turn reaffirmed the importance, the necessity even, of seeing those outward signs, showing all who pass by that Lent is to be observed and respected in our daily lives just as it is at Mass and in prayer. A mild annoyance at the onset, that detour took me where I hadn’t planned to go but where I needed to go, and I remembered Pope Francis’ words: “It is not enough to say we are Christians. We must live the faith, not only with our words, but with our actions.”
The memory of that cross remained with me through the day, and I wondered if the main road would be open again on my way home. It was, but I took the detour anyway, realizing that only one glimpse of the cross, like only one glimpse of our greening bushes, just wasn’t enough.
By Emily Clark
