I mindlessly ate a piece of ham at 7 a.m. on the morning of Ash Wednesday. This took place while I packed my three oldest children ham sandwiches for school and made my husband one for work. Lent was off to a strong start, and it has regrettably progressed with approximately the same level of recollection.
My twin boys (babies numbers five and six) were born just six weeks ago, and although I blame sleep deprivation for most of my forgetfulness, I confess that the idea of entering into a willing death to self feels redundant. I was in Lent while the rest of the world enjoyed Christmas. Isn’t it Easter yet?
When we walk the path of the Church calendar, it is inevitable that our lives will sometimes feel incongruent with the season. You may be faced with the passing of a loved one during a time of feasting or have reason to celebrate in the times of fasting. Or you may, like me, simply feel too submerged in the needs of daily life to engage with the season. The Church year is the pattern by which we live our lives, but the rhythm may sound loud and triumphalist some years and feel distant in others.
A beautiful aspect of being a part of the Church is its oneness. In this phase of my life, when small children are so often demanding my attention, I have come to a deep appreciation for the fact that my actions or lack of actions don’t impact the activity of the Church. When I am in the back of the church changing a diaper, Mass goes on, sweeping me and my baby along with it. When I kick off Lent with a mouthful of meat, the beauty of the season is unmarred. This means there is grace and room for my weakness and fatigue within the greater strength of the Church. If I make space and time for the needs of my newborn sons, how much more will Mother Church care for me?
When I recently expressed the dryness of my attitude toward this Lenten season to a friend, he referred me to a delightful little book titled The Practice of the Presence of God. Brother Lawrence was a monk who found that the most direct path to God is one of simplicity. He strove to complete every daily task entirely out of love while basking in a childlike awareness of God’s presence. Brother Lawrence taught that “our sanctification does not depend on changing our works, but in doing for God’s sake what we commonly do for our own.”
This may bring to your mind another beloved saint, Thérèse of Lisieux, who preached this “little way” when she explained, “It pleases him to create great saints, who may be compared with the lilies or the rose; but he has also created little ones, who must be content to be daisies or violets, nestling at his feet to delight his eyes when he should choose to look at them. The happier they are to be as he wills, the more perfect they are.”
The Church doesn’t strictly require much throughout the Lenten season. We are all required to fast on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday—with exceptions like children, pregnant or breastfeeding mothers, and the ill. Additionally, we must abstain from eating meat on Fridays throughout the season. Other sacrifices we choose to make should be done purely for the love of God.
Lent is a season of being aware of our own sin and repenting; however, giving up something sinful isn’t an appropriate Lenten sacrifice. Rather, these sacrifices are a practice of giving up something good so that you can receive it back at Easter and enjoy it all the more in the season of feasting. All this is done out of love for Christ, who first loved us “and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God” (Eph. 5:2).
If you are feeling fatigued by Lent, and even small additional burdens feel beyond your capacity, perhaps God wants you simply to sit with him in your weariness and offer the discomfort of your daily work. Remember that the three pillars of Lent are prayer, fasting and almsgiving. If you are struggling with one, then lean more deeply into the others. Embrace the childlike way of Brother Lawrence, who reminds us that “we ought not to be weary of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed.”
When carried out with prayer and love, the small duties of your day are worth far more than rigorous mortifications without them. Take a deep breath. Your striving doesn’t need to be for greater sacrifices, but only for consistent love in the ones set before you.
Hang in there, my friends—Easter is coming!