Psalm 131, 132 Exodus 7:25–8:19 2 Corinthians 3:7–18 Mark 10:17–31
I lost my husband in October 1998. The next few months were consumed
with packing out of our residence in Barbados, doing paperwork, packing out
of our home in Daytona Beach, and moving to my apartment in Rosslyn. But
by January there was not enough to keep me occupied.
Until a dear friend from Raleigh asked me to go to the Organization of
American States to help her with a big event there that was not happening as
she, the nominal chairman, had planned. Actually, what she said was that I
“should stop feeling sorry for myself and get busy.”
I took her words to heart, and I began attending St. John’s. It was a discipline;
it forced me to get out of bed on a Sunday. I cannot say that it was one
particular sermon or gospel that healed me . . . but I can say that Ash
Wednesday began the process.
Throughout the Lenten period that year, I felt my anger and grief at my
loss moving more and more toward gratitude for my life together with my
husband—and acceptance of the redemption and resurrection.
More than a decade later, I know that this sort of mental process cannot
happen overnight. I know that this is why the full 40 days are a building
process, a transitional period—and, eventually, bring the joy of Easter