Oh, dear one. I see how you toss and turn in your sleep, feeling guilty and even panicked simply because you closed your eyes to rest. I have watched you flee back and forth to your library, yawning and moaning and worrying. I know how important these things seem to you now, how crucial they feel at this moment in your life. I know the number of times you tapped the backspace key when you wrote resigned emails to professors, just like I know how many phone calls you've ignored when were working hard.
I have placed you here for a reason, and that reason was not so you could drive yourself into the ground in desperate chase after sets of letters that cease to matter: A's, B's, BA's, BS's... No, I have given you a far greater purpose: to learn, to grow, to teach, to search. You've taken your instructions much too literally, I see. You've learned neatly-bulleted lists of facts and dates, and you've grown weary of the things that used to bring you joy. You've taught yourself that if you are not at the top then you have failed, and you've searched books and websites for everything and everyone but Me.
This week, child, you may have more things to do than you have minutes in your day, and you may have more on your mind than on your heart. But don't forget what this week means; don't be distracted by your obligations, and don't be distracted by commercials for painted eggs or chocolate rabbits. Remember. Remember what you were taught as a child. And if you were not taught, then learn. Read. Pray.
On this day, two thousand years ago, I rode into a city full of smiles and waving branches and joyful cries of Hosanna! Save!
Cry out Hosanna to me, and I will rescue you from your fears of inadequacy, your heavy to-do lists, your attention deficit, your worries about the future, your unfulfilled desires. I will help you remember.
Today is Palm Sunday.
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