I wonder how best I can observe this Lent.
I wonder if I can go all 40 days and not become obsessed, depressed, discouraged or judgmental. It’s a fine line I walk—either I do great at staying “on plan” and become all prideful as a result, or I fail repeatedly and hate myself.
Somehow I don’t think that’s the goal.
I wonder how best I can make it through Lent and not become a penance Nazi. My children, unfortunately, are a lot like me—earnest, good-natured, fun-loving, weak. We burst out of the gate at a very good pace but lose speed (and discipline) as the six weeks progress.
Those 40 days get long for a family like mine. We do much, much better living La Vida Easter.
I wonder how best I can do this Whole40 and not become, you know, that person who’s always talking about food.
I wonder if I can stop guzzling coffee—coffee with half & half, coffee with cream. I wonder if I could switch to tea? Because drinking coffee black just tastes like a**.
I wonder how—or if ever—I’ll stop obsessing about food.
I wonder how best not to be competitive, and to be content with the person I am. To that I end, I have made some note cards that read:
“I am not Mrs. Jones.”
“I am not my friend.”
“I am not (yet) a saint.”
I hope if nothing else to grow in patience this Lent—patience with how far I’ve come; patience with how far I’ve to go.
I hope, too, to grow in humility this Lent. I do pretty well accepting the penance I’ve picked but cut me off on the highway? Or in the parking lot? Look out.
Finally, I wonder how best to grow in love this Lent, because that, as always, should be the greatest goal of our hearts. We can have it all, says the Apostle Paul—perfect Mass attendance, the best prayers, hardest penance—but if we don’t have love, we are lost. We are poor.
It’s Lent 101 for little souls like me.
Do I want to nail it?