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 was a young single mom with a four month old baby the first time I met my future husband. To his eternal chagrin, he doesn’t remember. We met at one of my good friend’s parents’ house for Easter dinner. We sat across from one another during the meal. At some point during the day, he showed me a photo of his girlfriend, but I don’t think we talked much.
I remember hearing him discuss philosophy with my friend’s dad in the next room later on. I liked the sound of his voice.
Three years later, my friend was getting married to his good friend, and we were both invited.
(Sometimes, when we are stuck inside on cold days, it is dreamy. Other times, not so much.)
It had been an icy cold day, a frustrating day, when my husband got home from work. He took one look at my face, and told me to get out of the house for a while. I started to do one last thing – putting laundry away – then stopped myself, put my coat on, and left.
I saw the glowing light when I got into the car telling me I needed gas, but I figured I wasn’t going far and I could get some on my way home after I ran a few errands. I drove to my first stop and headed into the store.
I let my mind wander while I picked up the things we needed, along with a few things we didn’t.
When I got back out to the car, it wouldn’t start.
I almost texted my husband an SOS.
When I look at that face, I don’t see the face of a warrior. A survivor, maybe.
I was going to share my birth stories here.
One of the ways I got ready for having my babies was reading other people’s stories. I especially enjoyed the ones where the woman would feel a little “off”, and then deliver a baby 15 minutes later.
In my experience, the travel home is easier on the kids than it is on the adults. The kids have traveled recently, so they know what to expect, and they haven’t been sleeping well. They look forward to things like the meal, juice, and the movie. They are able to sleep when they’re bored.
For us parents, we’ve also been sleep deprived, but we have to be available for help with food, toileting, and making sure none of our kids are kicking the back of someone’s seat. In our case, we typically drive to my parent’s house not far the airport a day or two before we leave on our trip. On the way home, we drive straight back home. This means our return trip is always hours longer than the trip there.
Our return flight was boarding a little after six a.m., and my husband and I got up with less than three hours of sleep. We made it to the airport without any trouble, thanks to the generosity of family and a friend who were willing to wake up before dawn to help get us there.
When the woman who was checking boarding passes saw us, her lips pursed and went off to one side as her brows lowered in annoyance.
