Last night, S. Redempta brought some chocolates into the community room. She said, "These are the best chocolates you have ever tasted!" The other sisters and I protested, saying, "We can't eat them today! Share them with us tomorrow, it's Ash Wednesday!" Then S. Sharon asked, discerningly, "How do you know they're the best chocolates we've ever tasted?" And Redempta replied, without missing a beat, "You see, there's one missing."
I'm not sure exactly what this Lent will bring. Things have changed subtly during praise, like using a wood block instead of a gong to signal the beginning of our prayer. We fasted and abstained yesterday. It seems so far like we're doing normal Lent stuff. I've been thinking about how this Lent might change me, how it might bring me closer to God and farther away from the parts of me that keep me away from God. I think I won't know until it's over, but I can already tell that this atmosphere is very different than living in London or at school or at home.
Living with the sisters during the first day and a half of Lent has already surprised me. S. Redempta's chocolates, having doughnuts for dessert and being encouraged to "have lots" yesterday, and even hearing some of the sisters tell stories about the challenges of fasting in their younger years made me realize that most people really don't like fasting. I've often thought I was unusual in my severe discomfort, but being with the sisters - who chose to be faithful Catholics forever and ever, amen - has helped me remember that we're all human, and that's ok. It doesn't make me any worse of a person to feel irritable when I'm hungry - it's perfectly normal.
One of my perpetual challenges in life is to remember that I'm a normal human being - and to be ok with that. My closest friends have always had to remind me to feel and to be ok with feeling. When my parents left and I was so sad but also so happy to be here, Kevin reminded me, "It's ok to feel all that." I push away my feelings because I'm worried about not being strong enough to deal with them the "right" way. I try very hard to keep order and follow the rules, and feelings blur the lines between black and white. I remember writing a story in S. Mara's Writing Essays class about trying to keep my life perfectly white. She told me, very simply and kindly, that colors are what bring excitement to life.
So this Lent, as I live among very colorful sisters who share their joy, "freaking out" (in Anamaria's case), sacrifice, and prayer with me, I am trying to let that color enter my relationship with God more fully. Living here has already added so much variety and depth to all my relationships, but I am hoping this season to focus that beautiful and exciting energy especially on my relationship with God. And if I break a rule, if I stop being strong, if I eat a snack on a day I'm supposed to be fasting, I will admit it like S. Redempta did. Truthfully, but with a sense that I am enjoying the fullness of life God has given me - including the ability to make mistakes.
To close today, I wanted to share two things people have told me in the past week. On Sunday, one of the community's faithful friends sat down and started talking to me. We chatted for a while about life in Washington, and then she paused, looked right into my eyes, and said, "You are a gift from the heart of God." I was a little surprised, but I sincerely replied, "So are you." She smiled and told me, "I know. I just thought you might not know it."
And yesterday, I picked up Anamaria to bring her to school. She rushed into the car, put her bag down, and took a big breath. She looked over at me and said, "Life is movement until we die." It wasn't a morbid or pessimistic statement, it was simply an acknowledgement of her whirlwind life. I learn something from living here every single day.
Peace, love, and happy Lent!
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