I’m meant to attend a service tomorrow, the last day before the start of Great Lent. I’ve been emailing with a new friend, someone who strikes me as kindred in some very good and holy ways…artist, mother, wife, outspoken and funny…
And I wake up today with a raging headcold.
There are no accidents, you know. This was well planned by my body, extremely well planned. I’m not saying that I don’t actually HAVE a cold. The wads of kleenix littered around me can offer their own proof. The scratchy throat, head filled with cotton and watery eyes play their part. My achy body is not acting but it is acting out.
I hold to this idea that everything in us has connection…body, mind, spirit. It’s kind of my day job, I guess. So, when, on the verge of a new thing…something I am really quite nervous to try…I finally succumb to the headcold I have to ask myself what THAT’S about. The answer is easy, too easy. My body doesn’t want to be there no matter what my spirit hopes. In this case, my emotional (or my mind) voted with my body. Fear wins.
Nevertheless…I am preparing for Great Lent. I am hopeful to follow through and offer up some hefty sacrifice. I’ve never been much for dairy and meat frankly but lately I have been craving a burger. Having not eaten red meat in several years it’s tempting to indulge knowing that I’m walking into 40 days with no meat or dairy. What frustrates me right now though is that instead of planning out what I WILL eat for the next 40 days I’m absolutely consumed (no pun intended) with what I’ll be missing. This seems both a natural tendency and yet a completely foolish one. There may be no better way to ensure my failure…and then I’m on about whether it’s a failure and what standards am I following and who’s keeping track and am I allowed to complain about the sacrifice for 40 days and geez……
Not even day one of Great Lent and I am already folding in on myself.
I really ought to have a plan…a planner…a daily reminder…like prayer, say…or hunger, maybe. Hm?