Lent Entry #40

 God,

If my soul were a room right now, it wouldn’t be perfectly clean or peaceful. It would be dimly lit—quiet, but not empty. There’s a soft, gentle light that never fully fills the space, but is still there...bright enough to see by. There are parts of the room that feel warm: memories, love, and the people I care about.

But there are also corners I avoid looking at—shelves filled with unopened books, and half-written stories scattered like they were abandoned mid-thought. Ideas I never finished. Pieces of myself I didn’t fully explore. Chapters I was too tired, too afraid, or too unsure to complete. Some things are messy. Not ruined—just…not finished yet.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room where I sit with You. Sometimes I talk. Sometimes I just sit there, hoping You understand what I don’t have words for.

Even though the room isn’t perfect, You’re still there. Not waiting for everything to be in place. Not asking me to be complete before You come closer. You sit with me in this quiet space, as if it’s enough to just be here together. And because You show me that kind of grace…I know where I need to show it, too.

I need to show grace in the moments where I get frustrated—with others, when they don’t understand me, and with myself, when I don’t understand myself.

I need to show grace when things feel unfinished, when people don’t meet my expectations, and when I feel like I’m falling short. Because Jesus didn’t wait for perfection before offering love. He met people right where they were. 

I want to learn to do the same: To be patient instead of critical. To be gentle instead of harsh. To give space for growth—in others, and in myself. Lent isn’t about becoming brighter all at once, but about letting You stay even in the quiet, unfinished places. Among the unopened books, the half-written stories, and the parts of me that are still changing. 

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit; 

As above, so below,

Amen/Blessed be. 

Smooches and think Tink.