Admittedly, I have a tough time with this one.
I long ago gave up the giving up thing. To give up something for 40 days only to binge on it the rest of the year seems counterproductive to me. So I began to take on something positive instead, hoping that Easter morning I would find it ingrained into my personality.
And while that is better for the half-full glass kind of gal I am, somehow this year I need more.
I think I mentioned last week that I've been feeling outta sorts. Well, that feeling didn't go away after a day. Or a mud mask. Or a party. Or 4. I found myself beginning the week further behind than if it was a Friday afternoon at 5:00 already. (It did not help that I've been driving from Tampa to St. Pete at various doctors for Stevie's broken finger and Amy's latest ear issue.)
So last night after laying there for a while exhausted but unable to sleep, I had a spiritual tantrum. It occurred to me that my sorts is my balance, and I am definitely off that by a long way.
So today, the first day of Lent, I've decided that balance is my focus for the next 40 days and beyond. But then I took it farther.
The other thing I hate about Lent (that must be sacrilidge) is that success is measured after a month and a half of sacrifice, and we all know that I am way too impatient for such a distant marker, so I decided that my success should be marked daily. Heck, even hourly. I will celebrate each day as if it were that rebirth of Easter as I march boldly to it.
Sounds uncharacteristically existential, doesn't it?
But it's not. When I came to this stunning realization, I can't tell you how spiritually full I felt. Even fasting, I was more satiated than I've been in quite some time.
Practically speaking, I am putting things back into perspective. After a doctor's appointment for Stevie today, the little ones were being attended to by the fabulous Tasha, I decided to take my son to a late lunch. We went to a new little restaurant in downtown Safety Harbor, which was as unique as the rest of my town. My friend Susan called Safety Harbor, "Mayberry on LSD," it is such a perfect description. Anyway, I sat on a veranda with my boy eating crepes on someone's back porch. We were the only ones there, and we ate every bite, and then we ordered dessert. We talked about 12 year old boy stuff. And crepes. And I cut his crepes becasue he couldn't with his big cast on, and we lingered. It was so....righted.
I am not going to write a column this week because I won't force one. I will work on my novel instead.
I cleaned out my room and workspace. And the toybox. Not because it all needed it, but because I just felt like the clutter wasn't going to set me off balance anymore, either.
And somehow, tonight on Ash Wednesday, usually a tough one for me, felt pretty glorious.
And I think I might have even walked a little more toward the center.