Giving Up: A Mother's Lent

Lent got off to a rough start this year.  Between being sick, having sick kids, having a sick husband, and therefore having gone for weekS without sleeping through the night or cleaning the house, on top of a crazy work schedule, followed immediately by a broken down vehicle and husband's broken glasses...I entered Ash Wednesday convinced that I had already given up enough to last through the 40 days before they had even begun! 

Yet despite my grumblings, I still found myself, as usual, thinking about what I should "give up" this year.  I always have such good intentions.  I think long and hard about what I really need to give up to draw closer to Christ, or what I really need to take up in order to be more Holy.  Not just what's convenient or 'standard,' but what I REALLY should do.  It has to be perfect.  I want so badly to have the deep, transforming experience that Lent promises.  And I used to be very good at Lent, always feeling renewed and better by the end.  Yet somehow, these past several years, I seem to have fallen short.  Between the running and the fatigue of having a young family, by the time I find time to figure out that "perfect" thing for me to give up, let alone find time to take on what I think I should that year, it's practically Holy Week already, so I end up just giving up on the idea of giving up. 

This year as I stewed in my own self-pitty at the difficult weeks of late, and reflected back on the past few years of unsuccessfully deep Lents, I found myself thinking a lot about what I HAVE given up.  What I have had to give up these past years as a mother...

I've given up my prayer time and some of my favorite prayer practices, which just aren't a reality anymore in a busy household shared with others.  I've given up my body, and what feels like all chance to have muscle again, as a result of having to give up some of my favorite exercise habits, along with giving in to plenty of "I'm too tired or don't have enough time to eat healthy" episodes.  I've given up a lot of financial security in order to be sure my children are well cared for, instead of being sure I have things like theater, movies or even eating out with my family or friends that I once enjoyed; I've given up having a social life, at least with any kind of regularity.  I've given up sleep - years and years and years of sleep!!!!  I've given up time alone with Mike, and have practically let go of the memory completely of what it used to feel like to have his undivided attention, let alone of offering him mine.   And, as an introvert trapped in an extrovert's house, I've given up the quiet time I used to treasure and so often need.  I've given up my time, my space, my preferences, often my needs, and sometimes, it even feels, myself. 

I have given up a lot to take on this role of Mother, and even more to try and do it well.  These sacrifices are likely a large part of why my recent Lents have been difficult to focus and follow through on the commitments I think will bring me closer to Christ and who he wants me to be.   

Because it's hard to focus on ME as a Mom.

But this first Sunday of Lent, sitting there in the pew with two extra squirmy toddlers doing their best to test the boundaries, as I found myself thinking of yet another sacrifice I make regularly - "I have given up getting to go to Mass, even when I'm here!" - something hit me.

The Scripture readings spoke about temptation, and help us see that giving in to temptation is making it all about "ME."  The serpent tempted Eve by telling her what SHE could have, what SHE could gain, how things could benefit HER.  And she gave in - not for the common good or promise of wisdom for future generations, but let's face it folks, for herself.  And in Matthew's Gospel, Satan tries tempting Jesus with various offers to make HIM more powerful, to prove HIMself wonderful, to make all the world HIS.  But where Eve (where we) forget about the other, and focus on ourselves, Christ recognized that it's not about himself; it's about something GREATER.  It's about the whole, about the other, about GOD's will for the world.  As Jesus looked out from the mountain top at all the kingdoms of the world in their magnificence, he knew they weren't for him; he knew they belonged to so many others as well.  Christ shows us that the world and what we do (or don't) sacrifice in it should be about "them." 

Yet here I was, wrestling with my little ones in the pew and giving in to Satan's wrestlings in my own life, tempting to make it all about ME.  This Lent was off to a bad start because I was tired, because I didn't feel good, because I was stressed.  The past few Lents have been unsuccessful because Kateri didn't gain wisdom, because Kateri didn't feel renewed, because Kateri didn't benefit.  This Mom's life is hard because she has to give things up.  And yet Christ is constantly calling me (and called me especially loud and clear this Sunday) to let go of the idea of "me," and focus on "them."  Why see my sacrifices as burdens, when I can see them as gifts given to my husband and children.  Why focus on what I don't have now, when I can focus on the life, health and values my children will have for years (hopefully generations) to come.  Why focus on who I used to be, when I can focus on who they're becoming.  Why think about giving up, when I can think about what I have received, from Christ, in the process. 

There in the pew I hugged my wriggling daughter, tickled her tummy to make her giggle loud enough to get those looks from other church-goers I usually hate, and made up my mind about what to give up this Lent - I'm giving up on giving up.  Because all that I have given up the past four years, including my "successful" Lenten practices, HAS brought me closer to Christ and who he wants me to be - it has brought me the role of a mother! 

There is nothing I can imagine doing that would draw me closer to my creator; nothing I can fathom giving up that would make me holier.  

This Lent, I thank GOD that it's hard to focus on ME as a Mom!  And I pray that the remainder of these 40 days will keep reminding me of that.  (and no doubt my wiggle-bugs will too)