I always have a bit of sadness to put away the ornaments and Advent candles.

The past week began with celebration with dear friends for my husband’s birthday. Then day after Epiphany, out of nowhere, a heavy burden dropped into my lap.

Ordinary time arrives with a thud. Less glitter, bare branches, the crumbling leaves piling up on the porch, the house cleared of the celebratory remnants.

These days require strength from me. The plainness can sometimes be shocking, and it feels like the weighty things somehow feel weightier. The suffering of people I love is in full view, not blocked by anything.

Beginning the long road to Eastertide takes courage, I think. Some days feel like walking through molasses, slow and murky, yet I find comfort in knowing where the road goes. And consequently, Jesus washes feet.