0132

Am moved to fast a bit, slow down, maybe take time for some reflective praying.

I do some light work. Thin and transplant tomato seedlings indoors, then transplant asparagus in the southeast corner of the main garden, and weed a bit in the strawberries. Write a letter to Jack. Quit early.

I remember another Lenten time of reflection - how long ago? Seven years? Eight? Knowing I had to do more than just fast & pray. I remember writing to Judie Brown, appealing to her to lead a pro-life movement that would have some teeth. An all-out economic strike, as I recall. Alas, the appeal seemed to fall upon deaf ears. But now it hits me that, almost without realizing it, I've kept my own counsel. This weird way of life that I've begun to live is, by design, a dropping out of the mainstream. I am on strike!

An awfully puny strike. But here's the deal: Does it please you, Lord? If so, that's good enough.