but I do think it's a beautiful way to begin lent. I love Lent. Or maybe I love that Lent means that spring is coming. Most years by the time we get our ashes, those of us in Greater Cleveland are ready to move on from winter. So for me Lent is the first indication that spring really is on the way.
We are pretty traditional with Lent in our house. I have a lot of friends and aquaintances that are not Catholic. Some of them get the "Lent thing", some have no idea. Many of them laugh or roll their eyes at my observance of these Lenten practices. These traditions are precious to me and all are practical but you need to understand the meaning behind them to understand that. So today I'm going to look at Ash Wednesday and it's significance to me.
Ash Wednesday mass and ashes on my forehead. No, I don't think it's a badge of honor or bragging to get ashes. I don't think going to church and having someone rub ashes on my forehead is a straight ticket to heaven. The tradition of ashes predates christianity and was adopted from the Jewish practice. The blessed palms from the previous Palm Sunday are burned to create the ashes used. So we as a church and individually have come full cycle. Palm Sunday, Jesus is a hero! It's a beautiful celebration: lots of story telling (ok kids look at it as LONG readings), we get palms when we walk in, there's incense and beautiful music. It is celebrating the height of Jesus' popularity and his welcome back home as a hero. Then just a few short days later we're back in church for the start of the Passion. And the falling of Jesus from hero to criminal. Peter vowing to always be there for Jesus and then just hours later denying even knowing him. The victory over death on Easter. And then a whole year of going from the thrill of Easter and knowing that we will recommit to living as good a life as possible to ending up again on Ash Wednesday knowing that we are really a whole lot like Peter. Using those palms as ashes symbolizes to me the cycle of the church year and my weakness but willingness to get back up and try again to be more the person God made me to be.
When the ashes are placed on your forehead you hear "Remember you are dust and to dust you will return" or "Repent and believe in the Gospel" or a variation of these. These can be powerful words if you reflect on them. I think about words and have for a long time. So I really reflect on what those words mean. God created the universe and everything in it. He created humans and he did that from the earth, from dust. I think most of us reading this are aware of what happens to our earthly body after our soul passes on. So starting from dust and ending as dust. God created us and gifted each of us with abilities and talents. He gave us the ability to do everything we do. Obviously, each gift is different and how each person uses their gifts is different. Hearing those words can be a reminder that our very being and everything we hold dear is a gift from God. In the culture we live in, I can't help but think that this is a good message for us to hear from time to time.
Remembering all God has done for us, how far our sin can take us from His presence is a wonderful way to begin the season of fasting and prayer that is Lent. In my mind, it's good to have Lent. It's good to have a season set aside to try again. Try again to be more the person God made you to be, try again to grow closer to God or more like Jesus or one of the saints whose life really speaks to you. It's just a time to try again.
Sunday, February 7, 2016
Monday, February 1, 2016
The Best Laid Plans
This post was written in July 2015 and somehow never managed to be posted. So here it is almost 7 months later.
We've lived in our house for 16 years now. It was the house and the neighborhood I dreamed of raising our family. And our baby is now 17. I have loved this house. Enough space so that there was room for everyone but not so overwhelmingly large that it would feel too empty when the kids are off living their lives. We bought the house from the original owners. They were in their 70's when they sold it to us and raised their family here. Built in the late 1960's, the original owners had decorated with the times and obviously, took very good care of the house because the turquoise foil print wallpaper in the bathroom was still in great shape. The olive green sculpted carpet in the living and dining rooms was still in decent shape. The outside had obviously gotten to be too much for them because you couldn't see the front porch from the street at that time. The paneling in the family room was nearly black it was so dark. The price per square foot was amazingly low. Most people don't buy ugly. But then most people don't marry a Catholic school teacher, have babies one and two and resign to stay home with the kids and then have a definitely planned and prayed for third baby. I am definitely not most people and tend to do things most people wouldn't do. So we bought ugly because it was big enough for the family to grow up in and in a neighborhood we really loved.
We have worked on the ugly a little bit at a time over the years. The bushes out front were gone that first summer. The foil wallpaper in two of the bathrooms was gone in the first few years. The orange carpet in the bedroom was gone before we moved in. But one huge project remained and that was our kitchen and dining room. The flooring was different in the two room even though they are completely open to each other. The textured beige wallpaper was original. The dark cabinets were ugly and because of the detail hard to keep clean. Doing the kitchen was going to be a big project. And I like to cook and having your kitchen torn apart can definitely hinder that. My kids still sit and talk while I cook. I love that. So even though I hated the kitchen and knew it had to be done, I loved the space because it really was the heart of our home.
We knew we had put it off long enough. All the kids could drive so the taxi service was not needed for the first time ever. My husband had put aside money to buy the supplies. His best friend, who has actually built entire houses, was willing to help with the installation of the floor. I was up for painting. Everything. Walls, ceiling, trim, cabinets. There was one glitch we hadn't counted on.
My Dad. He had been seriously ill for several months this spring but was doing much better. He came home from rehab the day after Memorial Day. He needed a bit of help so we had aides scheduled for two two hour shifts each day. Then June came. Three more hospitalizations each one lasting nearly a week. Each one leaving him a bit weaker and more confused until overnight he needed someone with him 24/7. It happened literally overnight. I said goodnight to him one night and the next morning I was woken by the phone ringing at 5:23. He had been so confused and disoriented that he ended up in the ER. I honestly thought it would just be a few days to get him back on a routine. So my brother, sister, and I decided we would just split up the time. Well, that was June 27. It is now July 23. He has made huge strides and I do see a light at the end of the tunnel. It's exciting to see him at nearly 84 years old fighting to get back to his life and regular activities. This week we have added more aides. So now he will have 9 hours a day with aides and we will cover the other 15. It's still crazy but once again I am believing that it's just temporary and that he will be back to being on his own in the near future.
Unfortunately, my kitchen is suffering. We are still living with folding tables holding things that should live in cupboards and walls half painted. Counters that need to be constantly cleared because of the patching, priming, and painting that need to be finished. I don't like clutter, it just stresses me out. And right now every inch of living space in my house is cluttered. And I HATE it.
I am a big believer in things happen for a reason and that everything is a chance to learn and grow. This is the summer of having no control for me. I consider myself a person of faith and absolutely trust that God has a plan and is in control. My lesson this summer is to practice that faith and trust. This is not how this was supposed to go. I knew what I "needed" to accomplish. What I wanted to do with my family. Virtually none of that has happened. Instead, I am learning and sacrificing and praying. A lot. And trying to refocus on what really matters.
We've lived in our house for 16 years now. It was the house and the neighborhood I dreamed of raising our family. And our baby is now 17. I have loved this house. Enough space so that there was room for everyone but not so overwhelmingly large that it would feel too empty when the kids are off living their lives. We bought the house from the original owners. They were in their 70's when they sold it to us and raised their family here. Built in the late 1960's, the original owners had decorated with the times and obviously, took very good care of the house because the turquoise foil print wallpaper in the bathroom was still in great shape. The olive green sculpted carpet in the living and dining rooms was still in decent shape. The outside had obviously gotten to be too much for them because you couldn't see the front porch from the street at that time. The paneling in the family room was nearly black it was so dark. The price per square foot was amazingly low. Most people don't buy ugly. But then most people don't marry a Catholic school teacher, have babies one and two and resign to stay home with the kids and then have a definitely planned and prayed for third baby. I am definitely not most people and tend to do things most people wouldn't do. So we bought ugly because it was big enough for the family to grow up in and in a neighborhood we really loved.
We have worked on the ugly a little bit at a time over the years. The bushes out front were gone that first summer. The foil wallpaper in two of the bathrooms was gone in the first few years. The orange carpet in the bedroom was gone before we moved in. But one huge project remained and that was our kitchen and dining room. The flooring was different in the two room even though they are completely open to each other. The textured beige wallpaper was original. The dark cabinets were ugly and because of the detail hard to keep clean. Doing the kitchen was going to be a big project. And I like to cook and having your kitchen torn apart can definitely hinder that. My kids still sit and talk while I cook. I love that. So even though I hated the kitchen and knew it had to be done, I loved the space because it really was the heart of our home.
We knew we had put it off long enough. All the kids could drive so the taxi service was not needed for the first time ever. My husband had put aside money to buy the supplies. His best friend, who has actually built entire houses, was willing to help with the installation of the floor. I was up for painting. Everything. Walls, ceiling, trim, cabinets. There was one glitch we hadn't counted on.
My Dad. He had been seriously ill for several months this spring but was doing much better. He came home from rehab the day after Memorial Day. He needed a bit of help so we had aides scheduled for two two hour shifts each day. Then June came. Three more hospitalizations each one lasting nearly a week. Each one leaving him a bit weaker and more confused until overnight he needed someone with him 24/7. It happened literally overnight. I said goodnight to him one night and the next morning I was woken by the phone ringing at 5:23. He had been so confused and disoriented that he ended up in the ER. I honestly thought it would just be a few days to get him back on a routine. So my brother, sister, and I decided we would just split up the time. Well, that was June 27. It is now July 23. He has made huge strides and I do see a light at the end of the tunnel. It's exciting to see him at nearly 84 years old fighting to get back to his life and regular activities. This week we have added more aides. So now he will have 9 hours a day with aides and we will cover the other 15. It's still crazy but once again I am believing that it's just temporary and that he will be back to being on his own in the near future.
Unfortunately, my kitchen is suffering. We are still living with folding tables holding things that should live in cupboards and walls half painted. Counters that need to be constantly cleared because of the patching, priming, and painting that need to be finished. I don't like clutter, it just stresses me out. And right now every inch of living space in my house is cluttered. And I HATE it.
I am a big believer in things happen for a reason and that everything is a chance to learn and grow. This is the summer of having no control for me. I consider myself a person of faith and absolutely trust that God has a plan and is in control. My lesson this summer is to practice that faith and trust. This is not how this was supposed to go. I knew what I "needed" to accomplish. What I wanted to do with my family. Virtually none of that has happened. Instead, I am learning and sacrificing and praying. A lot. And trying to refocus on what really matters.
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