It was a little weird for Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day to fall on the same date this year.

I didn’t grow up observing Lent. Well, I did, but not the way I look at it now. We never talked about giving anything up for Lent at my house. We went every Tuesday during Lent to one of the 6 or so churches in my tiny village, and learned how other people worshiped God. In college, I had friends who observed Lent, but they always gave up things like chocolate, or chapstick, and I didn’t really get it.

As a Catholic by marriage and an adult, Lent looks a little different now. I take my kids to Ash Wednesday prayer. I seriously consider what to commit to or give up during Lent. One year right after having a baby, I committed to exercising every day. Another year I gave up Facebook, and it was wonderful. It may have been the taste of freedom that allowed me to give it up for good.

This year, as I continue through this season of feeling inadequate and overwhelmed too much of the time, I didn’t know what I could do for Lent that I could actually commit to and that would have the desired result – to draw me closer to God.

I’ve been aware for a while that things seem to go better for me overall when I have personal quiet time with God daily. I also know that when things are crazy, that discipline can be one of the first things to go, along with going to bed at a decent hour, and exercise. Funny, all the things that would actually make things better.

So I am committing to daily quiet time during this Lenten season. I’m reading the book, Rediscover Jesus: An Invitation, by Matthew Kelly, and going through the little black book they hand out at church.

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Wednesday nights for us includes two hours of dance class 40 minutes away, if Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day weren’t enough. This time while I’m away with all the younger kids is when our oldest gleefully gets the alone time he craves.

It is our annual tradition to have a candlelit dinner for Valentine’s Day, and I knew that being at dance would make it impossible to pull off. So I texted my son, and asked him to make dinner. “A tablecloth would be nice.” I said.

I didn’t get a reply, which is normal. It meant until we got home last night, I wasn’t sure what I was coming home to.

There was a golden brown pan of mac and cheese on the stove, and, “Did you see the dining room?” he asked me. I walked in, and saw a tablecloth, covered with lit candles.

I didn’t cry then, but writing that may have brought half a tear, which I quickly sucked back in.

So Lent begins, with my committing to something I know I have to make time for, when it feels like there isn’t a lot of wiggle room in my life. And one of my kids showing me the importance of under-promise, over-deliver.