Image . . . Lenten Journey Day 7

I am confronted with my obsession with image. I want to look the part, whatever part I deem desirable. As a teenager, I would always take books or homework with me on babysitting jobs. After I would put the kids to bed did I crack the books? No. I watched television. That is I watched until I heard the parents approach the house at which time I would turn off the television and pretend to be absorbed in brainy activity. I repeated this same craziness in college with my roommates. I wanted to maintain the image of hardworking student. I feared being seen as lazy.

As I entered my twenties, the obsession with image continued. I wanted to be seen as a healthy eater. I was already in the habit of not stocking the pantry with cookies. Truth be told, my lack of buying sweets was rooted in not wanting people to see junk food in my grocery cart. With my husband, the focus shifted to hiding my sweet tooth. It was not until over a year into our marriage that my husband found out I liked junk food. I used pregnancy as an excuse. He called me a closet sugar junkie and we laughed at how long I had kept it hidden.

I believe these memories are flooding back to me as a Lenten gift.  The Holy Spirit is chiseling away at the dark secrets of my soul.  We are a week into Lent, and the fast I set out to do . . . well, I am failing.  I had to rethink caffeine and have been unable to go cold turkey as initially planned.  I actually do believe this is necessary and not a justification to sneak in a cup of coffee.  The withdrawal side effects were making it too difficult to be emotionally present with others – not good when that is my job description as a therapist.  So, I have a weaning off plan in place with intention to be caffeine free in the next week.  That is not the dark secret.

I am failing with my commitment to avoid processed foods – to stay away from junk and only eat clean, raw foods.  I sneak nibbles of cookies; looking over my shoulder making sure no one is watching.  I feel like a kleptomaniac stealing a trivial item with a wallet full of cash.  Stealing for the rush of getting away with it.  Sneaking junk for the rush of the secret.  Now the secret is out.  I sabotage my intentions.  I collapse in the face of temptation.  I hate my husband for being able to abstain.  I am a little annoyed that Jesus did not eat for forty days.  I cannot seem to abstain even for good spiritual reasons.

I read a blog yesterday (thanks Ruth Hubbard) talking about Jesus’ parable of wolves in sheep’s clothing and to watch for the fruit that comes to bear.  I see myself as the wolf covered in wool as long as I am focused on image.  As long as I am seen as a faithful Lenten pilgrim all is good.  See my fasting?  See my praying?  Sounds like the Pharisees.  Big religious acts drawing attention to their image of righteous and put togetherness.

One week into Lent and I am learning I am far from put together.  In fact, I am a bit of a mess right now.  If I peel back the layer of sheep’s wool covering my own eyes I see rotten fruit.  And maybe that is the point – awareness to lead to repentance.  I have been trying to put myself together.  I have been fasting on my own strength (and failing and sabotaging miserably!)  That when the temptation grips me I look to myself and find disappointment rather than to Christ who promised to give me strength.  Perhaps I stop the insanity and repent of my fierce self-reliance.

 

   

Lenten Journey . . . Day 5

This Lenten season is off to a rough start. For me, it is about two things: overcoming my caffeine addiction and quieting my life enough to "hear" God.

Caffeine.  My drug of choice.  I was drinking a pot of coffee a day splashed with an occasional afternoon diet coke.  Honestly, I was unaware of how out of control my addiction to this stimulant was in my life.  Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday I was met with pounding headaches and waves of nausea.  The clanging was so loud, it was difficult to concentrate.  Saturday it moved to my neck and back.  On a positive note, it was so bad that my husband and I visited our friends at the Chinese Foot Massage and got a bonus date night.  Yesterday, it finally started to alleviate, and this morning I am feeling a bit more like myself. 

As my head clears, it saddens me that I had so much physiological addiction to a stimulant.  I needed another fuel to get me going in the morning.  That life alone was not waking me up and providing my energy.  I am realizing that it is difficult to be wholly myself as long as a chemical is altering my personality.  I had previously written caffeine off as a benign drug – it is not illegal and readily available.  After going through withdrawal and detox, I must reexamine my assumptions and watch more closely those things which have a hold on me.

The side effects of withdrawal made it difficult to concentrate and notice God’s presence around me.  Regardless, God has not been invisible and I have not been completely blinded.  Here are a few things I have noticed.

I see God at work through my children.  Our beloved dwarf hamster died on Saturday.  My oldest was not sad because it meant that she would get to use her Christmas money and buy a regular sized hamster (Prudy joined our house on Sunday.)  Saturday night, I was doing my usual routine of songs and prayers with each child when my youngest began praying with deepest sincerity that God would bring Frannie (the dead hamster) back to life.  I had the painful job of explaining death and “hamster heaven.”  For a moment she seemed okay – Frannie was running in heaven with her Mamaw who was still probably afraid of her.  I moved up the bunk bed and began doing prayers with my oldest when I heard my youngest begin singing a very sweet song about Frannie, and then very sweet and sincere sobbing . . . “but I miss her.  And I love her.”  Such purity!  Not afraid to approach God with anything (she frequently prays for pixie dust and the gift of flight.)  And she is not afraid to let her heart feel deeply and express itself with honesty.  She, in her wise four-year-old ways has much to teach me about desire and approaching God with total freedom.

I see God’s presence when my son asks for three hugs and kisses at bedtime because he “loves me extra much.”  And when my oldest, who is in kindergarten, announces on her own volition that she has given up the iPad for Lent and began teaching her younger siblings about sacrifice and giving up something you love.  God’s presence is in our house.

As I have struggled to pray, especially presenting personal desires before God, I have begun to witness God’s presence here.  Over the last couple of years, I have been praying for friendships and a community to belong to.  This prayer is coming to fruition.  I have other moms I am beginning to hang out with.  After the 9:00 Mass, there is coffee and donut time.   I have moved from standing off at a table alone with my family to watching our kids play with their school friends while I am engaged in meaningful conversation with friends.  It has taken time, but the prayer is being answered.  I am learning to trust God with the desires of my heart.

And now that my head is actually clear, I sit in anticipation at what surprises are awaiting me around the corner.

God of Surprises

It is the second day of Lent.  I picked up a good read from the bookstore -- The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything:  A Spirituality for Real Life, by James Martin, SJ.  I read another of his books last year about his life with the Saints and enjoyed his wit and wisdom, and thought I would give this a go while waiting for my "more serious" Lenten reading to arrive from Amazon -- not due until February 28.  I am a fifth of the way into the book and am impressed. 

Fr. Martin speaks of our quest for God and who exactly God is to us.  He grew up with "God the Problem Solver."  This God worked until he encountered problems that were not solved.  I made my own list of gods I have relationship with -- God the Absent One, God the Silent, God the Passive, God the Abandoner.  Wow, I sat back and realized my list was quite negative and still filled with so much anger.  I got a little quieter -- God the Suffering One, God the Patient One.  Yes, there is still much ambivalence regarding my relationship to God.  I have great respect for the God who has been an everpresence in my life, silently suffering alongside, and still some unresolved anger toward the God who did not directly intervene with water-parting miracles during my times of trial.  And I know that suffering is a part of life.  I even believe it makes us better humans and draws us closer to God.  Despite knowing this, there is still a rather immature part of me that is angry because I was not spared.  And I am grateful for God of Patience as this continues to be worked out.

In the midst of Fr. Martin writing about his grief regarding the problem-solving God, he began talking about "The God of Surprises."  Something in me grabbed a hold -- yes, I want to be surprised by God.  To not tell God how it is supposed to be, but rather be open to the unexpected.

Yesterday, I was surprised.  Like good little Catholic school kids, mine celebrated Mardi Gras on Tuesday and then attended Mass for Ash Wednesday.  They are learning about the purpose of Lent -- fasting, almsgiving, and prayer all for the purpose of preparation for the Easter Feast.  All good stuff.  But one little person in our house asked "Why forty days?"  I was about to give a long theological thesis on the purpose of preparing our hearts and cleaning out the sin when my husband chimed in, "Because Jesus spent 40 days in the desert."  So simple, and yet so utterly surprised by the answer.  Duh, we are called to be like Jesus.

As my caffeine withdrawal headache pounds and my stomach is growling (I did consume a green smoothie last night because I could no longer complete a sentence),  I was continuously brought back to Christ's days in the desert.  Being tempted to eat, to drink, to satisfy his desires by his own means.  Jesus remained obedient to his call.  To be like Jesus and stick with something even if it does not make sense or causes great temporary discomfort.  To have faith that great Joy and Peace will result despite no immediate evidence to support this. 

Here I am, trying to let go and trust the process . . . and waiting to meet the God of Surprises.

Fat Tuesday

Today is "Fat Tuesday."  The day before Lent.  Mardi Gras parties are happening in my children's classrooms.  I celebrated with Girl Scout cookies for breakfast and am thinking about a big, juicy cheeseburger for lunch.  Eat and drink up today -- get the gluttony out of our systems, for tomorrow it abruptly ends.

"Fat Tuesday" could just as easily describe my last eight months.  The near twenty pounds I gained confirm it.  I slipped into a cycle of managing my emotional life with food and drink.  Bored?  Eat a cookie.  Angry?  Eat two cookies.  Still angry?  Eat the box of cookies.  Tired and sluggish?  Drink a pot of coffee.  Frustrated by the stress of the day?  Drink a beer.  The cycle triggered shame -- eating in secret with hopes that even I would not notice what I was doing.  But I began to see it.  I knew I was out of control.  I could not deny that my pants stopped fitting.  But knowing and doing something about it are two different things.  For the last few months, my life has been full of good intentions but no discipline.  A few days of clean eating soon gave way to the cravings of comfort foods.  A green smoothie in one hand and that blasted cookie in the other.  I have been ambivalent -- desiring change, but lacking the endurance to face the days of a processed food detox.

And if I am truly honest, I will tell you it is more than the endurance and the detox.  It is fear.  Fear regarding what will take the cookie's place.  Fear wondering what will bring me comfort.  Fear wondering what, if anything, will meet my needs.  For a few minutes, maybe even a few hours, food and drink silences these fears.  I do not have to hear the echos of my emptiness, but rather let it be muffled in the cream of a double stuff oreo.

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent.  The liturgical season of reflection on our sin nature -- a time to address those barriers that stand between us and God's graces.  It is a season of examining our conscience and confessing our sins.  It is a season of reconciliation -- of making things right.

Lent is a time to sacrifice and fast.  Two weeks ago, my super annoying husband declared his Lenten fast -- 3 days of only water, then 6 weeks of no caffeine, alcohol, and only raw eating with exception to one cup of coffee, one good beer, and a fish meal on Sundays.  I hated him, even though this is not far from what he does every year and I should have expected it.  My competitve side started showed its ugly head -- if he can do that, so can I.  Real spirituality here!  But when I really started thinking about it the mere thought of it terrified me.  I started a list of excuses why I could not join him in a similar fast -- I am training for a half marathon, I have low blood sugar, blah, blah, blah.  But when it came down to it, I realized I was too afraid of what I would discover in myself if I took away my food and drink.  A few days later I knew this was exactly what I needed to do. 

I no longer want to fear my perceived emptiness, but rather I desire an increase in my faith that God is indeed my first provider and source of comfort.  Faith and trust have never come easy for me.  I have a history of relying on my own strength, knowledge, and independence.  I have been saying I am tired of this, that I need to change, but I have not done much to address it.  Now it is time to take action.  I do not know where this will lead, but I do know it is the path I need to take.

Lent is also a time to add something to our lives.  I am choosing to add writing and prayer.  To write, I must create space to think, ponder, and contemplate ideas. Over the past several months, I was spending so much energy trying to deny my food addiction, there was little left for writing. I also knew that in taking time to pray, I would have to face my fears, my anger, and every other emotion I was trying to suffocate.  And to really pray how I need to, I need to surrender my independence and let down my guard.  The word "terror" comes rushing back with the thought of letting go.  But, I am committed to going there. 

This year, I will blog my Lenten journey -- maybe not every day, but I will do my best.  Today, I come out of my cave of shame.  I invite fellow sojourners in my Lenten walk.