Too much to throw away, it's hardly worth a drink. Liquid, but lifeless, it bathes the ice cubes in a bland submersion whose melting dilution can do nothing to weaken the experience. It is dead. If seasons were saints, Lent would be the Patron of Flat Souls left too long unattended on the shelf. There are no flashy stories in Lent.
Angels are scarce, as are electrifying miracles.
Lent is the season for seeing one's honest reflection in the glass that, by Easter's emerging light, turns out to be a window looking out on something more. May God bless our spirit these Lenten weeks with deeper roots, clearer faith, and effervescent life.