We didn't all grow up observing Lent. If you didn't learn to celebrate the season as a child, you may just now be learning the importance of it. So here you go: 10 things that show you are off course with this whole Lent thing.
The dearest idol I have known,
Whatever that idol be,
Help me to tear it from thy throne,
and worship only thee…
- William Cowper, “O For a Closer Walk with God”
As I was driving to church this morning, I found myself wishing that there was such a thing as a steering wheel warmer to go along with the seat warmer. Yep. I'm admitting it: I was once again stymied by a first world dilemma.
It occurred to me (once my hands warmed up enough that my brain kicked in) that I might consider being thankful for my blessings rather than focus on the inconveniences in my life.
"Self," I said to myself, "this would be a great Lenten discipline for you: practice thanksgiving."
"But Self," I whined in reply, (I drug out "self" into two syllables just to make myself get my point.) "Lent has already begun and I'm already behind."
"Self," I said (pronouncing "self" crisply and succinctly so there would be no wiggling out of it before I got it said) "just how long has Lent been going on?"
"Like a week!"
"Well, almost a week."
"So. That means I'm 4 days behind."
"Right. Ummmmm, I'm pretty sure you could go ahead and start being more grateful right now."
"Yeah, but how will I measure my thankfulness?" (I had a point there. Goals really should be measurable.)
"I believe you have a blog, don't you?" (My Self can be very snarky.)
"Fine. I will practice thankfulness through the remainder of Lent and will make a daily blogpost about that thankfulness."
"That's a good Self!"
"Thank you. You're not so bad Yourself. (Or should that be 'Myself?')"
(Today, Sunday February 17, I'm thankful for First Baptist Church of Marion: my other home church.)
My mother, a stay-at-home mom, made Easter the true highlight of Spring. We had neighborhood Easter egg hunts, attended by 1000 kids or so. (Or maybe 10, but it was a lot.) She always made my sister & me matching outfits, and not just dresses either. From the same fabric, she stitched purses, hair barrettes, and even bows for our shoes. She also made our younger brother little miniature seventies-style leisure suits. And if she was running around on Easter Eve getting basket goodies, we never knew it.
It’s the Saturday before the Saturday before--
Everything’s almost done.
Easter dresses, matching: hemmed and hanging.
Eggs, two dozen, waiting to dye.
Basket treats purchased and hidden away.
It’s the Saturday before--
Our guests are all here.
Neighbors, church folks, family and strangers
Eggs, freshly hued, tucked low in tall grass.
A prize egg too, stuffed with secret delights.
“Go find them” “I see one!” “All done!” “Oh! Let’s see!”
It’s the Sunday we planned for
And it’s all just right.
Baskets with bunnies and chocolate and more.
New dresses, new shoes, and purses to match.
Lunch nearly made before breakfast is done.
A long-eared cake, a smile on its face.
There’s the camera, take the pictures, hurry up, let’s get moving.
It's Easter Sunday!
Christ is Risen!
Christ is Risen Indeed!
Here's to you Mother! Thanks for taking care of the minutiae so we could experience the magnificence!