Sunday, March 13, 2016
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Bear has lived 1296 years, having been born in the Year of Our Lord 720. He began to be instructed by St. Corbinian in 724, after Bear had followed him to Bavaria.
This is Bear's one thousand two-hundred and ninety second Lent. Bear could have written this sorry entry during every single one of those years. It's always the same. High hopes and determination, then failure.
Lent is almost over, and once again Bear has totally blown it. He has gained weight during Lent. (Must be neighbor's ponies he ate.) He has only irregularly said Compline, which was his extra prayer commitment. He has wasted time on the internet and his stupid ephemeris when he could have been reading Holy Scripture, or his spiritual reading -- Fulfillment of All Desire. While he has received real graces to combat vices, Bear has squandered many of them.
In short, Bear realizes what a miserable creature he is.
Bear could vow to make the most of what's left of Lent, but experience teaches him that Bear will never get anywhere by his own determination and pluck.
Lent exposes Bear's weaknesses, makes him think of his sins, and rely on the Good God's mercy in a way he doesn't during other seasons. That's something, at least. Bear thinks he will go to the penance service tomorrow night.
Bear thinks he just committed the sin of gluttony.
Bear will be peaceful, and take Lent one day at a time, and not think about his failures. If God gives him the chance for one perfect day, or nearly so, Lent will have been successful.
If not, Bear will be humbled and wiser, and Lent will have been successful.
But in truth, there is no success or failure, as if it were a game or test. It just is. Or so believes a wicked and foolish old Bear.
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