First Friday In Lent

These last few months, I have felt like the tip of a bullwhip, yanked back and forth, snapping and popping with violence that almost tore my spiritual head off, then easing back to a casual, flyfishing rhythm for a few weeks, then back to the crack and snap.

Being able to leave my former job and start a new one has helped immensely. It is a truly good thing to be able to work from the home that I love so much. Mrs. Orr enjoys having me here, and the dogs all seem to like it, too.  The new job is not without its own set of stressors, but most of these are self-inflicted. This is where my wife is so very dear to me, because she consistently provides that treasured thing: perspective. I have a tendency towards turning not into Mr. Hyde but rather into Mr. Worst Case Scenario, but God is merciful and I am mindful of His graces to me during the past two weeks. Today will be a difficult day, but necessarily so; a part of learning my new responsibilities. And it is Friday, and when my day’s work is finished, my commute home consists of closing my laptop and walking ten feet into the family room, where wife and tiny terrier mix and two heelers do abide.

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Heelers. Ah. Bluebelle got her first rabbit yesterday. Mrs. Orr came in from the back yard as the sun was setting and told me what she’d seen. She got Bluebelle away from from the little creature and Jinx was easily distracted,  and I went out to dispose of the rabbit. She was a fine, well-developed doe, and I hope she left no babies behind in the warren. I also hope she wasn’t carrying babies at the time of her unfortunate encounter with my sharp-snouted little spotted girl. I took her up into the woods and laid her in a hollow and covered her with leaves, knowing that the nighttime predators would dispose of her in God’s own economical way, and I told her I was sorry that her end had come so violently and fearfully — how many rabbits die, like Harris’s Hazel, of old age? Then I whispered a prayer that God would receive her into a new place where the sun-warmed slopes would be full of tasty plants and where she would never encounter fang nor trap nor gun.

The spring is a-comin’ and all of the things that go with it are crowding in at an alarming pace. My wife’s honey-do list is growing, and tomorrow there are plans to plant bulbs and prune various limbs and shrubs, to collect a staggering amount of pine cones the tree out front dropped this winter, and to spruce up and organize the barns. Over at his blog, Francis Berger wrote about his plans for the coming warmer weather, and one of his commenters made a remark about his own success with no-till gardening. I have heard this term before but for some reason have never investigated it. I am now reading up on the subject, since our soil is so rocky it causes great headaches when gardening. We’ll see how it goes.

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I can’t remember where I read about it, but Father Z is selling pristine sets of the traditional Latin/English breviary, which is out of print. I was very excited to learn of this and wrote Father Z a query letter about possibly purchasing a set. He responded quickly and courteously, but I was shocked at the cost. I know these are hard to come by and that they’re very fine volumes, but there’s no way I could afford a set of them. Someday, maybe. But it’s not as if I don’t have enough devotional and reading material.

Speaking of reading material, tomorrow is the annual day of great joy for Mrs. Orr and me. The library down in the next town over is having their yearly book sale. We typically browse for a couple of hours and return home heavy laden with various volumes. I always hope to find at least one thing that makes the trip worthwhile. I can’t recall being disappointed in the, what, 12 years? that we’ve been making this little trip. If I find anything enjoyable, I’ll post something about it.

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I am grateful to be the age I am. I am grateful to NOT be looking down the barrel of another fifty years or more in this life. With each passing week, I find my mind turning more and more away from what I see around me, and fixing itself on things that I cannot articulate even in my own mind to my own heart.

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I learned some time ago of a fellow who calls himself Roosh. He apparently was very notorious for being what’s known as a pickup artist (PUA) but ended up being converted to the Orthodox faith. He renounced his former life, wrote a memoir about it (which I would like to read), and now blogs and podcasts from this new Christian perspective. I am wary of new converts to anything, but sometimes one can find gems among their thoughts. I found a link to his latest post, which is an examination of a book about Christians who have been persecuted in prison under Communist regimes. It’s a very interesting read and I found myself ruminating about it for days after I read it. I have in fact re-read it a few times, and have extracted a lot of good from it. I wanted to link to it here.

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I am again observing the Lenten fast, and my body seems to be adjusting well. This year, I hope to continue a certain degree of this fast beyond Eastertide. The practice is humbling, helpful, and healthy.

And now to work. That long, long commute from this room to the next one, just a few feet away.

I am a blessed man, and I am grateful that I’m not being snapped and popped at this hour.

~ S.K. Orr