Lord, where are you? Come on – Let’s go for Ordinary Time! 

The moon drops into view between the trees from the back porch, and the cicadas are more than excited on this warm evening. It’s a great night to be sitting here. 

An answer to my invitation comes before I can take my seat: “Oh, now you’re excited for Ordinary Time. I’ve been waiting on you for a month; what happened to wanting more time for lingering?” 

I swat this away, then say: “Fair point, but You and I had that conversation (Pentecost Reflection), so it’s time to move on, right? I’m finally ready for the greatest Church season, so what have You got for me?” 

I feel an indulgent smile with a raised eyebrow. It’s the kind of look that says: “You’re cute; really?” The question, which comes to me though, is more curious: “You sincerely believe that we are in the ‘greatest’ Church season?” 

A pause comes over me; this question silences my immediate response. I sense a challenge in that question. A day of playing with the children at the park, buying groceries, and listening to my wife – such a day’s memories flood my mind. This flood produces a more measured but no less enthusiastic answer: “Yes, we are in the greatest Church season.” 

Then, there comes a nod. The slow rise and fall of a head that weighs competing testimonies. It’s a gesture of consideration and a question follows: “What about Christmas? – Lots of folks tell Me that Christmas is the greatest Church season.” 

I raise my arms over my head. With this gesture, I question the question. I say, “Don’t get me wrong. Christmas is great. We get presents and visits from family. Those are great things. Even better, we get the first season to remember the fulfillment of Your promises. Like Easter, we see in Your grand gesture that You will deliver on every promise that You make. How is that not wonderfully encouraging for our journeys with and to You?”

My Companion says, “But, you’re still not convinced that Christmas is the greatest season?”

I nod before I sense my Companion’s lips roll together in a “that’s interesting” move. Then, eyes squint in my direction with: “All right, then, what about Lent? I hear lots of people prefer Lent as the greatest season.” 

I concede, “Lent, like Advent, is a fabulous time for recalling our shortcomings compared to Your promises. You promise a great many things, yet we get tired of waiting and try to do our own thing. So Lent, and Advent for that matter, are blessed moments for the recollection of Your promises and our failures in waiting for them. Despite Your track record for delivering on promises, we still get in our minds that we’ve got this – We don’t though. I appreciate Lent for the time to remember my actions in spite of Your promises and the moments to recall Your promises.”

My Companion blinks at me: “But, you still don’t think Lent is the greatest season?” 

I shrug with my nod to answer with “that’s what I’m saying,” and my Companion pads the air between us. I hear: “All right – then, why Ordinary Time?” 

I slide my glasses up my nose before I answer: “Because now I go with You.” 

My Companion asks, “So, we’re back to you making up this journey as you go along?” 

I retort, “Not in the least. In the previous six months of the Church’s calendar, I’m reminded of Your actions to enable my journey. You enlighten my shortcomings in Advent and Lent; You reveal Your efforts to repair the rift between us through Christmas and Easter. You prove time and again that You call, arrange the path, and guide to the destination. Because of You, I can go – If there’s any proof of this lacking in the seasons before Ordinary Time, I rapidly confess that I don’t know what it would be.”

If my Companion had a beard to stroke, it most certainly would be. My Companion says, “So, Ordinary Time is about you and Me going together.”

I sense some hesitation in this statement, like the words are pieced together as a solved puzzle without assurance of the pieces fitting together. So, I say, “Exactly.” 

I continue without a response from my Companion: “You showed my stumbles in Advent and Lent, so I set out on this journey with a renewed awareness of my rejections of You. You showed that You have overcome my ongoing choices for my own path through Christmas and Easter. 

“Now, it’s just You and me. Nothing remains except Your call and my journey to answer that call. Ordinary Time is the greatest season, because You provide the focus on that journey – just You and me. I go with You because of You, and I can’t wait to see what You have in store for my Ordinary Time.”

My Companion, again, narrows those eyes: “I can’t wait, then, to see how this works.” 

“Me either,” I say. “So, we’ll do this again soon?” 

My Companion ends, “Whenever you get ready. May My peace be with you.” 

Immediately, I’m aware of the crickets, the clock, and an empty space. It’s my bedtime, so until next time, may we all go with God.