Adventures in Living!

Lent

Today is the second day of Lent, the 40 days prior to Easter. Lent stopped having special significance for me long ago, when Catholicism was more family history than actual daily living. I don't recall ever giving something up for Lent, and until fairly recently, my joke was that I'd given up Catholicism for Lent one year, and well...

I have friends for whom Catholicism is more than just a religious term, both of them having converted to it as adults. My own family is Catholic, some more so than others. I can't say I consider myself Catholic. I certainly am not, in the eyes of the Church's fairly strict doctrine. But I believe in God, and I believe in Heaven. I do not believe in an angry God, or that I need a priest to communicate successfully with God. If I want to talk to God, or confess my sins to Him, then I do.

I used to think of the Bible as great literature, but not as the word of God. The inherent hypocrisy in some religious doctrine repels me, as does a constant harping on giving of money to the church.

Recently, though, we have made more of an effort to go to church. Our littlest ones are happily attending our local church's preschool, and the people had been so welcoming and so friendly that we decided to go to the church ourselves. It's a wonderful place, with many wonderful people, and a pastor whom I enjoy very much. Not a Catholic church, but a Methodist one. I very much like the practical application of the Bible to daily life, the not-so-zealous view of religion, and the abundance of music as a way to praise God. It seems to be a good fit. We're even thinking about having the two little ones christened.

I've enjoyed hearing the word of God more in the last year than I think I ever had in my whole almost-40 years. And I find myself wondering what that means. Is it a shift in my own personal belief system, or is it a desperate reach for something to hold on to in the face of my own mortality? Am I in need of comfort? Grace? Divine intervention?

I don't know.

I find myself these days thinking about Lent, and what it means. A period of suffering before a rebirth. A time of contemplation. A walk in the dark toward the brilliant sunshine of spring.

I don't think I will be giving anything up for Lent this year, but instead I think I might try adding something. A daily scripture reading, or a daily time of meditation, something to bring me peace, to let me really have faith.

"....for Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever and ever, Amen..."

An Opportunity to Give

I read several craft-oriented blogs, and one that is in my feed is Craft Gossip, which brings together a bunch of nifty finds from all over the web in all kinds of crafty idioms. This morning, I was struck by an entry from the editor who writes specifically on ideas for teachers. The post is this one, about Cora, a child who passed away this past Sunday from neuroblastoma, a rare but devastating cancer. I went to the link and found the family's blog, and was entirely moved by the story. My heart truly breaks for this family, as it would for anyone who has lost a child, but struck me particularly because my own smallest child is barely older than little Cora was. Noah had been hospitalized early in his life, and although it was certainly not as devastating an illness, nonetheless I can't help but remember my own helplessness at the sight of my precious baby in a hospital bed.

One fo the greatest things about the internet, and the blogging community at large, is the ability to help other people. The parents of this little girl are raising funds to build a playground in her name to both honor her and commemorate her short, short life. There is a link here that will take you to Etsy, a place to buy all manner of wonderful handmade goods. Proceeds from this sale will go to help the building of the playground. I will be making a purchase myself, today. It's a small thing, but as all remarkable things go, it's the small things that can build the greatness.

Also, pray for them. I can't imagine the grief of losing your only child.

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.

Psalm 30:5