Friends, the Lenten season has ended, so I can now admit to having failed miserably. The weird thing is, I’m OK with it. Here’s what happened.
Life has been a bit of a whirlwind recently, what with work and selling our house and then quickly moving out (and then in with the in-laws! Stay tuned for that story). I completely spaced Ash Wednesday, and as I was enjoying a ham sandwich on the following Friday, realization dawned. Lent had started, I was eating forbidden meat, and I had not set any intentions. The horror! Normally, I give up Coke or Netflix and commit to doing a positive act. Last year, for example, I went on a social media blackout and vowed to call my mom once a week. Yay, me!
I could have certainly jumped in late but made a conscious choice not to. For my sanity and stress levels, I decided to forgo all Lenten commitments. It was entirely about self-care and figured Jesus would support me. Did I experience some of that infamous Catholic guilt? Obviously. I’ve been participating in Lent for almost half a century. That’s not something easily reconciled. But not enough to make me change my mind. Sometimes, you must trust your gut and do what’s best for you.
And to be honest, it was a lovely 40 days. I channeled feelings of gratitude and forgiveness and I believe I was actually a kinder person. Am I going to receive hate mail from a few readers? Probably. But I seriously don’t care. I may have failed at Lent this season, but I thrived at life.
Peace out.
