ASHES FOR BEAUTY

Today is Ash Wednesday.  And even though I'm not a Catholic, I have a confession to make.

I'm not sleeping with my husband.

I know what you're thinking.  No, I did not give up sex for Lent.

My Mom has moved in with us and I need to be near her at night. So she won't fall again. So I can bring her medication if she is hurting. So she knows I'll be right there if she calls.

It's not forever. It's just for now, until she settles in. Or until I do.

But for now, I seem to find myself sleeping all over the place... in the bedroom next to her, on the couch, in the recliner.

The other night, the Dickman woke up to the sounds of an approaching ambulance. Anytime he hears a siren, he sends up a quick prayer. He prays for the responders, for God's presence, for needs beyond knowing. But he soon decided the sound wasn't exactly that of an ambulance. He got out of bed and followed the strange noise to it's source... which happened to be me, asleep on the couch. Dainty, classy lil ol' me... snoring like a full-blown ambulance siren. He shook his head and went back to bed. But before he fell asleep, he prayed for God's presence... for needs beyond knowing.

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A funny thing happens in the middle part of our life.. age becomes the Great Equalizer. Whether in big or small ways, each and every one of us becomes aware of our parent's mortality.  If we are lucky enough to still have a parent or two, we suddenly find ourselves traveling down a strange, new path and bumping into our cohorts along the way, as we all become caregivers to those who once nurtured us.

Native Indians who greatly revere their elderly refer to it as the “Blessing Path”.  And it is.

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On  my  way to the store,   I  popped  into Mom's bedroom  to pick  up her grocery list.   I kissed her 'bye', promised to be right back, and crammed the list in my purse.

I  sped  to the store,  hurriedly  grabbed a grocery cart  (the one with a wonky wheel, of course)  and took a quick look at Mom's list. 

It stopped me in my tracks...

The sight of  her sweet, familiar handwriting. The fancy, flowing, schoolgirl cursive. That's all it took for my eyes to fill with tears, for sadness creep in around the edges.

Until my eyes went to the bottom the list and read: “thin panty liners – no wings 'n strings”.

My Mama hates wings. She has told me many times how much she despises a panty liner with wings. She believes with every fiber of her being that they were invented by “a little bitty man with control issues.”

So there I was, in the middle of the feminine hygiene products aisle, wiping away tears while thanking God for my silly Mama... for walking with me along the Blessing Path.

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Today is Ash Wednesday. The beginning of Lent.

I wasn't raised in a religion that practiced the Lenten season. In fact, I once wiped ashes off the forehead of a friend. I am That Person.

In spite of my ignorance, I know enough to appreciate the spirit of Lent... of dedicating 40 days to becoming a better person; of dying to self;  of  sacrificing worldly  distractions which may come between us and God.

Most importantly, of acknowledging death and celebrating resurrection.

It is a beautiful and worthy tradition.

God knows, there is a multitude of distractions I could choose to give up for lent; numerous ways I could strive to become a better person. I gave serious thought to giving up cussing. But then I remembered two important things...

1. I am menopausal.
2. I have Road Rage.

No way would I be able to honor such a penance.

I also thought about giving up chocolate but that's just wrong. Chocolate always makes me feel closer to God.

Realizing my Lenten options were limited, I decided not to give up anything. Literally.

This year for Lent, I'm.Just.Not.Giving.Up.

There are times in our lives when not giving up may be the most courageous act of faith we can offer. 

Because life is hard. And it can be devastatingly sad. Trials and suffering hit everyone. They crack us all wide open. But it is in those broken places where we learn to really see one another.

It is our shared pain and heartbreaking losses that unite us. 

It is in the space between death and resurrection where we find hope and transformation.  Where ashes of mortality are traded for the beauty of resurrection.