A few years ago, the City of Cambridge was replacing sewer pipes on our street. The thing was, though, because it was going to take a while, they couldn’t just dig these big holes and leave them. If they did, it meant that emergency services would be cut off from our houses, and we would be unable to easily get out. So instead, every day, crews would dig a giant hole, and someone would poke around at the bottom with a stick, and then they’d fill it in before they left for the night. The next day, perhaps a little further up or a little further down the street, same thing: A hole, a guy peering into the hole, and then at the end of the day they’d push the dirt back in. Eventually, somehow, after 3 months, the sewer and water pipes got replaced and they stopped digging. I didn’t understand the method. It seemed bizarre and without momentum, but eventually, they finished the job, so someone obviously knew what they were doing.

This is literally day 34 of quarantine for me – I went out 2 times for groceries and that’s it. My menfolk have been out more than that… to pick up pizza when there wasn’t enough wick left on my candle after work tasks and mental health and general C19 anxiety, so I couldn’t pile the tasks of making and cooking and cleaning up dinner, and then being mad because it fell to me, again, to take on the household tasks. So this is where I look at my Lenten effort and have to just say that this is enough. I dug some holes, I filled some holes, and that’s all there is. There’s method to the madness somewhere in there, right?

During Lent, may I remember that even though I don’t understand someone else’s workflow, it doesn’t mean that they’re not making progress.