The season of Lent has snuck up on me once again. As I reflect on years past, I realize that I have added and taken away all kinds of practices for Lent. Here are a few…
Added: meditation for fifteen minutes a day, writing a letter to someone I love every evening, journaling six pages every morning.
Taken away: social media, sweets, phone usage in the evening and morning.
Whether I feel the need to add or take away something in my life for Lent, it’s clear that I love an intentional spiritual practice that challenges and enriches me. Until this year. Sure, I’ve thought about different things I could try: take a walk every morning, read from a devotional every evening, withhold from gossiping. But nothing seems to resonate this Lenten season.
I asked my Spiritual Director about this and she told me to take the pressure off of myself; that I was being too hard on myself about finding the perfect practice to get me all self-reflective for the next forty days. As we kept talking, I mentioned that I was getting a new puppy later that week, and that I hoped she would become a “church” dog that I could take to work. “Well then,” she said, “sounds like you found your spiritual practice.”
She encouraged me to see the first forty days of raising this puppy as a Lenten discipline; the fasting of sleep that it will inevitably require, the fear of my puppy’s death as I pull it away from cords, and the constant vigilance of taking care of another being. There’s not a lot of self-reflection in this practice, but there is surely a lot of self-emptying. I am already experiencing the loss of sleep and, for now, quality time with my partner. Friends come over and I can hardly be present because I am watching this puppy like a hawk! It may seem small, but it is a sudden, drastic change in my usually flexible, self-centered life.
Luckily, we have a savior who is in solidarity with all of the fatigue and distraction I feel. A puppy is such an embarrassingly small comparison, but I think Jesus gets it. He knew something about losing his autonomy and freedom in order to love others tirelessly and he knew something about all of us who want to get faith “right” instead of doing faith honestly.
I don’t know what I am trying to say here, other than that it felt nice to hear my Spiritual Director assure me that I can let go of trying to do something I deem “holy” for Lent this year and just take care of a new, living thing right now. I’m finding holiness in the ordinary of daily life with Jo. I haven’t caught a sunrise in years, but Jo’s relentless whining yesterday morning allowed me to smile at the sky.
What are you planning to do for Lent this year? If you need ideas, there are still six puppies left in Jo’s litter…
Peace,
Margie