This week has been another busy one, so, once again, I missed my Wednesday post for Lent. I apologize to anyone who was disappointed. I chose two delicious recipes for the post to help make up for it. I'll try to make the rest of my post of few words, as befits the topic I've chosen for this week: quiet times.
Throughout human history, people far wiser than me have expounded on the benefits of times of silence and solitude, as well as the difficulties of procuring such times. I won't try to top their wisdom today. Rather, I will simply admit that, even for an introvert like me, planning times of quietness, particularly to be used for prayer or meditation, can be a struggle. I can find time on the train to read a chapter of my book, but blocking out the world is not always easy. I find that I often have to take myself out of my normal environment to truly have time alone. Like many others, I prefer to find the quiet places outside, and use those spaces to meditate and pray as I walk or sit in contemplation. However, sometimes the weather works against you (Massachusetts is welcoming the first day of spring with a new snowfall as I type), and you have to improvise. For me this has meant using my walks to the train or to work as times to pray, rather than listen to music or a podcast. This didn't come easily at first. Prayer is something I've struggled with for a while. My mind wanders, or I find it hard to be silent for long enough to actually listen. I've found though that, even if I don't do this every time I walk, the habit of praying is slowly becoming ingrained into my life.
I wouldn't say that I "pray without ceasing," not yet at least, but it has become much easier to simply take whatever quiet moments I have throughout the day and use them for prayer. Sometimes the prayers are just small, scattered things like a simple thank you for beauty or a request for a friend, whereas at other times prayer becomes fluid, almost like breathing -breathing out a request or frustration and breathing in God's response. Sometimes my prayers sound a bit like one of David's psalms, the ones where he simply cries out in frustration at God's apparent inaction or at his own failure to perceive what God's purposes are. Like David, I don't always get a specific answer. When I say, "why?!" or repeatedly remind God how much more I'd like to know, God doesn't always explain. Sometimes the answer simply seems to be the reminder that He is God, and I am not, or that He is trustworthy. These aren't always the answer that I want, but they seem to be the answers I need. No matter what shape my prayers take, whether a wrestling with the Creator or a friendly conversation or respectful awe, the key thing I'm learning (ever so slowly) is that you never get better at doing something if you never try. Prayer is hard. Being silent is hard. Giving yourself time for meditation and self-reflection is hard. But they are so worth it. Perhaps this Lenten season you can try to find moments of quietness, even if just once a day or once a week.
I'd been waiting to try out this recipe for a long time and I was so happy that I could yesterday morning because I had it off. These were the first cinnamon rolls I've ever made from scratch entirely by myself and they were delicious. My opinion can be confirmed by the two friends lucky enough to try these rolls. I could have had more expert testimony, but these rolls disappeared to quickly to let anyone else try.
I made these last year for one of my vegan friend's birthdays. They are soooo good. I was very happy because I've been, and still sort of am, looking for a great from-scratch brownie recipe and voila! These are both easy and tasty. However, I will caution you that they are also very fudgy, even after baking a bit longer and adding a smidge more flour than the recipe called for.
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