Lenten Decor

It does seem a bit ridiculous that I still have the nativity tapestry hanging on my wall, not to mention the epiphany wisemen around the creche glass figurine set standing on a mirror on my desk. Really, I need to be more seasonally in sync!

Problem is, I found exactly the wall tapestry I want for the Lenten season, a great Last Supper scene that is NOT the popular DaVinci one. Rather, the disciples are gathered about, sitting on the floor by a low table, deep in conversation. The room is dusky, lighted by oil lamps of the right era. The whole scene evinces fellowship and camaraderie mixed with a bit of confusion and depth. Perfect. Also no longer available.

I try several vendors online, but cannot get it. So I stubbornly refuse to change seasons because I cannot get what I want. And DaVinci isn't it. Too formal, too stiff, too posed. No, I want something closer to what supper looked like at my house when I was growing up, just translated into another era. Comfortable. Cozy. Familiar.

How revealing. I will not move on until I get what I am used to, what is comforting to me. But life is seldom filled with only the comfortable and understandable. We live with mind bending conundrums daily which do not care whether we are able to comprehend them or not. We seldom have the luxury of standing still and refusing to move until we get things sorted out.

It does not matter that your personal life is undergoing some crisis. You must still report for work or risk losing your job, your income, your home. Time does not stand still when your parent dies, or your child. You must keep breathing, keep getting up every day, keep eating. You cannot stop aging even one minute just because you are in pain and are missing the best years of your life.

No, we steadily march forward, like it or not, with grace or with tears. You only get to stop moving when you are dead. If you stop, the consequences are overwhelming and expensive.

I sigh and stare at the tapestry so out of step with Lent. I know I must change it, and not to the scene I want. I browse online for other options. There aren't many; at least, not many I can live with. I don't care for sickeningly sweet sentimentia. The art on my wall must speak to my soul, remind me of something valuable, challenge me to think differently, more broadly, see a horizon far beyond my four walls.

I select a tapestry of Jesus looking out over Jerusalem, longing to be allowed to love its inhabitants, sorrowed that he is not permitted, praying for them, loving them anyway. Normally I do not care too much for depictions of Jesus, but this one is not a full front face view, and the figure is draped in a shawl. Yes. It will encourage me to think of my neighbors, to pray for people who are unresponsive to me and to Christ, to love anyway, to have no agenda other than to treat people as Jesus would have.

This year, I am slowly learning to love people better. It is not easy. I consistently want to take the lazy approach, to do less than I know I should, to justify my lack of action based on my health. It is a sham and I know it. There is no excuse for not picking up the phone and talking with a friend who is undergoing a medical procedure. It is not difficult to remember to mail a card to someone who is having a tough time.

If I really cared, I would do it.

Perhaps more important than what hangs on my office wall is what hangs in my heart. I don't like what I see there. I need a good thorough spring cleaning - an application of God's grace to clear the cobwebs from the dark corners, a swipe of mercy to remove the layers of dust. They are such little gestures, so easy to do but so hard to make into habits. I cannot do it. God will have to hang the tapestry in my soul and make the necessary adjustments. I will cooperate. Let's hope I can at least manage that.