A Lent of Little Things

This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, and in honour of this, my favourite Holy Day, I give you a story and a devotion.

Story first!

I became a Christian after college, but my foundations were laid way before that, way back in my childhood, if I want to be completely honest.  This story focuses on those college days, though, since they sit so heavily on my mind as the underpinnings of who I am today.

I went to a college with a very strong Anglican tradition.  We churned out WASPs of the highest degree with startling efficiency.  Wednesday evenings were devoted, for example, to Evensong followed by sherry receptions in the chapel lounge and then a formal dinner in the hall.  To be a part of Evensong had nothing at all to do with whether you were 'religious' or even, for that matter, Christian, and everything to do with politics.  As a first year student I found myself rooming beside the head of the altar guild and was convinced to become a reader during the service one week.  I was a good reader, and I really enjoyed the 'smells and bells' of the whole enterprise and got heavily into the chapel community.  I wasn't a Christian, and I'd tell you as much if you asked me, but I rose up to head the altar guild myself by second year and was thurifer for the year as well.  In my spare time from studies I always wound up in the chapel, thick with the old smoke that permeated the pews, polishing silver in some back room, or cleaning the fair linens (which you NEVER use soap on, only boiled water slowly strained through the port-stained bits).

I was, to put it lightly, very very involved in something that I barely understood and certainly didn't believe in.

With such a plethora of beautiful, perfectly executed services (our choir was award winning and had put out multiple cds, for goodness sakes!) you'd think that one particular service wouldn't necessarily stand out in my mind, but there was one that always did.  Ash Wednesday fit me like a glove.  It was solemn, but trusting, and walking around with the mark of ashes on my forehead always touched me somehow in a way that few other Christian symbols did.  I loved the symbolism, I loved the visibility of it; I loved the 'secret club' feeling of walking across the campus and spotting someone else with a telltale smudge and smiling at them.  We (forget that I wasn't part of this club at all!) were in it together.

And so Ash Wednesday, and it's counterpart in my mind, the Easter vigil, have always stood out for me in the Christian year.  They are the bookends of Lent.  If I could choose the time of my own death, I would choose the vigil, since I could never miss Ash Wednesday, have only missed a few of the services in the twelve years since I first experienced one, and every year, I wait for it.

Now, the devotion.

Lenten devotions have acquired a bad rap in recent years I think.  These days it seems trendy to either make fun of Lent (ie: I'm giving up giving up things!  Or I don't smoke, so I'm giving up smoking!) or else Lent has turned into a way to add something new to your life to improve it.  While I'm fine with self-improvement, I think that that moves us away from the meaning of Lent, and so, despite not always accomplishing my goal, I have tried to start my sacrifices with a meek and contrite spirit, even if they haven't always ended that way.

Lent this year is falling at a very stressful and anxious time.  Samuel is having significant 'two-ness' and the beginnings of what could be separation anxiety and is certainly shyness.  Our second baby is due just after Easter, my life is turning upside down with the end of work and the beginnings of so many other things.  David is still without a ministry job, we are still far from friends and family, and February is a tough, long, dark month.  I find that Lent comes when I am already at my spiritual maximum.  I'm drained; I cannot tithe of myself at all.

And yet, this is when Christ is asking us to, and he must know what he asks of me.  Although Lent, this year, will be a struggle, maybe that's as it should be.  I wasn't certain wht I was going to give up this year, but I think I know now.  I'm going to try and give up my 'it all must be done' attitude and embrace a Lent of Little Things.  A Lent that focuses on not allowing myself the self-indulgence of "I'm tired" and instead forces me to acknowledge that my strength is in the Lord by taking one step, and then another...

If you haven't thought of your Lenten devotion yet for this year, why not consider a Lent of Little Things?  Little steps forward, instead of frozen anxiety and fear.  I cannot, for example, consider packing my hospital bag.  It's an overwhelming idea for me, but I can take one step to packing it.  I can find the bag I want, or I can match up nursing pads and put them on my dresser.  I can't face the dishes from supper, but I can wash a rack of plates every time I walk into the kitchen.  I can put the pot on the stove for making applesauce, even if I absolutely cannot make time to make applesauce.  And the next time I'm in the kitchen I can take the apples out of the fridge.  The next time I can wash them.  The next time I can take out the cutting board...by the end of the day, I have made applesauce.

There have been years in the past when I've thrown caution to the wind and said "God, here is my big sacrifice!" but this season of my life is not one of additional big sacrifices.  And God, big as he is, wants my little steps, too.

Have a blessed Ash Wednesday.