The master called the woman to himself.
'Child, please take this basket to the river, and return it to me.'
The woman ran to the river and dipped the woven basket into it, but when she returned to the master, it was empty, for the water had seeped through the small holes in the weave.
'I am so sorry! Please, I will go again to fill my basket with water.'
So the woman ran again to the river, dipped the basket in, and returned with an empty basket.

Over and over, this woman ran to the river and became broken-hearted as the basket was always empty on her return.

'Child, what did the basket look like when I gave it to you?'
'It was dirty.'
'And now?'

The woman gasped.
'It is clean.'

I heard a story a bit like this from a pulpit years ago, and I'm living the truth of it now. Again and again and again, I try to retain

coherent thought
self-discipline
a thriving prayer life

and again and again and again, I fail. I come back empty. My intentions are so good, but the holes in my mind, in my heart, in my soul just seem like a gaping drain.

And yet.

And yet, I am cleansed in the cycles. In my weekly returns to the Table, taking the broken Bread and the poured Wine, I am cleansed. In the daily cycles of sleep, I am afforded a bit more refreshment and strength. The seasons turn, the rhythms repeat. I am dust, lavished with mercy.

* * *

I used to think that life was pretty linear. A leads to B leads to C. Study well, get good grades: check. Meet nice man, get married, have babies: check. Learn the repertoire, make connections, make great music: check. Learn basics of the faith, grow in faith, stop making stupid mistakes .... darn.