A Lenten Gift
Jenny Walpole
I want to lay something down for Jesus
A small offering to bring, to lay at His feet
Like a curious squirrel with a modest sized nut
The gift has some meaning but not very much
Something I clasp in my hand which I think that I need
And replace it with something to hold in my heart
Then sit under a tree, on a sofa or pew
And ponder the love that is always abound
I wait for the earth to call out my name
Then I’m back on the treadmill of living again
This Lent I am aware of how much we have already given up, and thoughts of further sacrifice and self-denial make me wonder when it will all end. At the same time, I recognise that Lent is a penitential season and I do want to reap the spiritual rewards that come from fasting and prayer. As I sat staring out of my window wondering if I had anything worth reflecting on, I saw a squirrel running up a tree. I imagined this busy little creature holding a nut, and Julian of Norwich sprang to mind. God showed her the image of a hazelnut, as a symbol of the whole world, and God loves it. The way that a squirrel holds a nut in its paws, looks like the nut means the world to the squirrel. Perhaps the things we give up are like the nut; they mean a lot more to us than they need to. Still, God accepts this gift of sacrifice and loves it anyway.
For Lent I am giving something up that has not been enforced by the circumstances of lockdown; it is fairly inconsequential but not entirely trivial. I want to give something up to lay at the feet of Jesus, and to consider this offering not as a burden but as a gift, a small gift. Each year when the season of Lent comes around, I try to respond in a meaningful way but the action never quite matches the whole-hearted intention. This year I seek again a connection with God and try to create some space, and wait for the earth to move beneath the surface. Signs of spring are always welcome, and as the sunlight warms the frozen garden, the hope of Easter is on my mind.
The lockdown has allowed me some respite from an unrelenting pace; this won’t be everyone’s experience but is something for which I am grateful. The final line of the poem conveys the idea that returning to the busy-ness of life after spending time in prayer is a grind but an inevitable part of our human experience. Spending time in prayer and engaging with Lenten practice, however modest is still a sacrificial offering and our gift of love.
