What do you do with Jesus? Lent is a season of reflection, confession, and penitence. As penitents, we have walked deeply into ashes and doubt, sorrow and regret, rest and forgiveness.

To walk in the forest is to encounter the passage of centuries. A cathedral of time marked off in rings of alternating slow and fast growth.

She is smack dab in the middle of losing her baby teeth. One of her front teeth is growing back in, but the other is a cheerful gap. Her knees are knobby and bruised from jumping off swings and bouncing on the trampoline.

All snowflakes start from a particle of dust. As they fall through the wet womb of the cloud, they grow feathers or spikes or wings: each according to its journey.

His feet dragged through the sand. There was no reason to walk down into the valley. It hadn’t rained since he had last been there, and his sheep would find nothing but starving locusts.

It should be simple to return home. Honestly, it should be simple to do a lot of things that aren’t simple.

Things are not always what they seem. Just consider ash and time. The end of a thing. The true unmoved mover. Remnants. Immutability.