Hot Crossed Bun

Stopped by Mrs. London’s bakery today for coffee and I could not resist one of my favorite treats—hot crossed buns. Not being a regular churchgoer, I was reminded by these delicious little pastries that it is Lent. The idea of giving up something you desire for a bigger reason is a concept with which I have become familiar. I can’t pretend to have a higher calling like my friends who are practicing the rituals of Lent, but I can at least empathize with their sacrifice, willpower and watching of desire as it comes and goes.

This is also a time of year for waiting in anticipation of an answer, redemption and looking deeply into one’s self. It is the time of re-birth and my actual birth. I was born on Easter Sunday, 1965. Every year, I am drawn to thoughts of what will pop up from beneath the ground and what is waiting to be born—sheep at Shelburne Farms? Cows over at King’s Dairy? Snowdrops in my neighbor’s yard? It is a source of great happiness to witness all of these things.


This year, I am not sleeping much as I watch and wait to see what will emerge from my own inner dialogue and the external opportunities—the forces at work in my existence. I am a bundle of confusion and feel constantly stirred up while trying to make a career decision. I am struggling with choices and looking for the right answer. My job counselor said to me, “When you stop drinking you really have to deal with life on life’s terms.” I understand this completely right now, as I lie awake soberly waiting for a resolution to become clear to me.

I know that this is not a matter of actual life and death (for me). I know that I will come to a decision about the next phase of my career. It is just a time of challenge and unrest before the seedling of truth pushes its way to the surface and show it’s delicate green leaf. For now, I look for ways to quiet my mind and wait. As sure as Easter is coming, so is an answer. When it does, I will rejoice and be glad.

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