All year long, I count the days until New Year’s Eve. The smell of pumpkin bread at Thanksgiving dinner and the shimmering lights on the Christmas tree pale in comparison to the hope I find on a New Year’s Eve night.
It all started as a young girl. I have fond memories of being at my grandparents’ house, wearing a vintage New Year’s tiara inscribed with the year 1960, and cranking a rusty red tin noise maker as the ball dropped. Year after year I would plan elaborate New Year’s celebrations at middle school friends’ houses, at my tiny apartment in the city, and even once at a hotel in Niagara Falls. What can I say? I am drawn to the glamor of a glitter dress and, when the clock strikes midnight, the promise of a new beginning.
Yet, year after year, the aspirations I have at midnight on January 1st seem to get lost in the monotony of day-to-day life. I have found myself forgetting the resolutions I swore not to break or too quickly giving up on my goals for self-improvement, half-hearted promises made in the name of improving myself for the sake of myself.
Unlike a New Year’s Eve night, Lent does not prompt elaborate celebrations. Lent is a solemn time in the Church as we prepare for remembering the death and celebrating the resurrection of Jesus Christ. During Lent, we focus on fasting, almsgiving, and prayer––not exactly an event everyone is waiting in line for. However, last year, as a new wife and a soon-to-be first-time mom, this season was the only thing that could satisfy my yearning heart.
Though my heart was especially longing for Jesus, I wondered how I was going to make Lent impactful. Just like my New Year’s resolutions, I usually slack on my Lenten ambitions. Admittedly, I dread Friday fish fries (and the never-ceasing smell of fish), I constantly question whose great idea it was to serve my parish by teaching 2nd grade religious education classes (teachers truly are saints), and I drag my feet to group Stations of the Cross prayers. I find I’ve made well-intentioned promises in hopes of getting them over with as soon as possible.
Caught up in my perceived burdens, I completely miss the new beginning found in fasting and penance. Lent provides us something New Year’s cannot—a divine purpose. The Lenten season is an opportunity to reset and refocus our lives by growing in our relationship with God. We make tangible commitments not to burden ourselves but to become more Christ-like in the monotony of the day-to-day. Our Lenten promises aim to transform our hearts by clearing away the unnecessary and making room for God. Lent is not merely spiritual goal-setting, but an honest reflection on what is holding us back from experiencing God’s love more fully and sharing more of that love with others.
By challenging myself to feel Jesus’ agony in the desert and the weight of the cross at the crucifixion, I emerged from Lent last year with something greater than a completed objective. I began to fully embody the wife, mom, and woman God is calling me to be. It is a daily, conscious choice to spend extra time in prayer or say no to after-dinner fudge brownies. I realized that when I united my well-intentioned promises with Christ’s suffering at the resurrection, I was able to actually fulfill my Lenten promises and make my experience of the Lenten season more meaningful.
When we commit to our Lenten resolutions, however imperfectly, we can take comfort in the fact that the Lord is walking with us on our journey. He understands what it is like to be hungry and to suffer. When we open our hearts, grace flows in with the persistence to overcome the most tempting of devils and to silence the loudest of doubts. If we can let go of what is holding us back from our relationship with God and be faithful to our Lenten promises, we may be better able to discern the fruit of our work multiplying in all aspects of our lives––and, at the very least, we allow the seed of this fruit to be planted.
Whether it’s day five or forty, whether you’ve been devoted to your Lenten promises or have stumbled, our Father meets us wherever we are. We are challenged by Matthew 6 to fast, give to the poor, and pray, not out of selfish desires, but wholeheartedly, walking with Jesus in His most holy sacrifice.
Last Easter, my daily commitment to connect my Lenten experience with its purpose made the body and blood of Christ more satisfying and the resurrection more powerful. Lent may not glisten like a New Year’s Eve night. But if we open ourselves up to the possibility, Lent can lead us to a bright, new beginning in our hearts.
©TheYoungCatholicWoman
