The Lenten dredge

A long time ago, when I was a young man barely hearing the call to the priesthood, I was living in the mountains facing the Pacific Ocean. I joined a crew of dozens with rakes, shovels and buckets to clean up a stream. It was called a creek but it was different from the creeks of Minnesota. This small river came out of the mountains as the snow melted. It was swift, deep and cold. The creek winded its way through a broad valley before joining another river on its way to the ocean.

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