Today was a lolling kind of day.

Coffee, prayers, and reading for starters.

Discovery of a real coffee house here on Tybee after all these years–cappuccinos and knitting for a midday coffee break.

Another Tybee first: a wonderful labyrinth created from old sea rope and shells, with a thick pad of pine needles to cushion each prayerful step.

Walk to the beach for more walking and water coloring.

Vacation dinner of burger and fries sitting outside.

Vesper light of yet another wonderful sunset over the marsh.

Guide us waking, O Lord, and guard us sleeping, that awake we may watch with Christ, and asleep we may rest in peace.

A friend noted that I hadn’t blogged since Valentine’s Day–which was also the second day in Lent. That’s pretty much a comment on my Lenten disciplines.

I grew up in the Southern Baptist tradition, and while, as a result, tithing comes like breathing to me, Lenten practices are always a stretch.

I’ve decided that my wilderness this Lent is cherishing the moments of quiet in the midst of the busiest Lent I’ve ever had. For most, giving up the busyness is part of their Lenten practice; I know most years it had been that way for me. But a Lenten aha for me this year is that the busyness is my Lenten wilderness. How do I keep God at my center while the world whirls and whirls?

For ten years, I’ve traveled in Lent to Tybee Island, Georgia, a few miles outside of Savannah. This is a largely residential beach community; there’s little here to attract youth on Spring Break, which makes it perfect for me. Over halfway through Lent, I’m stopping to catch my breath, which may mean, actually, the Breath of God.

The locals call the slower pace of this island community, Tybee Time. For me, this year, Tybee Time may be another name for remembering to stop long enough to behold our God who is already waiting with arms open wide.

Tybee Time.

Up early early to drive to the farm to be with my mom for Valentine’s. I arrived before noon, and she was ready with homemade soup made by her and my brother’s homemade bread. It was a lunch full of smiles.

One of the things I rediscovered on a daily basis on my Sabbatical was joy. Waking up with a smile joy. Fruit of the Spirit joy.

Since joy is linked with the work of the Holy Spirit, I’ve decided to take on joy this Lent. I was retaught by that same Spirit what gives me joy during my Sabbatical– knitting, baking for others (well, as long as I can lick the bowl), being with my grandboys, dancing, having endless time to sit in my prayer chair meandering through spiritual practices…. That’s a start.

Today, besides the joy of being with my mom, which included walking with her about this property that’s been in the family over 150 years and seeing the first spring blooms, I baked two kinds of bread. With small servings for me since Weight Watchers is also a Lenten discipline ( every year we begin again…….).

There’s a Lenten trend here, this second day of Lent. Bread in communion with the people I love–three Eucharists at St Mary’s yesterday, a home communion, breakfast bakery communion with my friend, and now more bread communion with my mom.

Every year we begin again.

Lent began at 4.50 AM and me getting ready for our 6 AM service. This year we’re using the Eucharistic Prayer from the Diocese of Jerusalem at all Eucharists. It feels good and right to pray with our brothers and sisters in Jerusalem this holy season.

We added our own St. Mary’s version of “ashes to go” to our 6 AM and noon Eucharists. All who wished were sent out with little vials of ashes and prayer cards to share with those who sought an encounter with Christ but might not make it to church today.

I took my ashes to go with me for breakfast with one of my dearest friends at a local bakery. When I got to the bakery, there was only one of the bran muffins my friend and I both prefer so we decided to cut it in half and share it. She remarked that Richard Rohr encourages a type of fasting where one eats half of what one usually eats and prays during the time not spent eating.

Cutting the muffin in half and sharing it was a kind of true communion. We prayed our lives through our conversation. We ended with me imposing my friend with ashes, and then sending her with my vial of ashes and prayer cards to take on her hospital visits today.

I had originally planned to take my ashes to go with me to share at the place where I get my nails done. Turns out that I had my own version of ashes to go as eight of us sat at our little tables, and my ashed forehead started a conversation among largely strangers about where we would worship this Ash Wednesday and what our Lenten practices would be.

At the close of our noon service at St. Mary’s, we only had three ash vials left. I can’t wait to hear everyone’s stories of how they shared God with others today.