When Ashes are Everywhere
What can we read—or write—in a week like this?
I’m simmering an essay on Lent that I hoped to send to you today. But on top of everything this week brought—war in Ukraine, nuclear threats, grief anniversaries—our family has been slow-rolled by the stomach bug. So in honor of real life, the essay will come later.
For today, here are a few reflections that return to me each year. Like Mary Oliver, I was never a quick study but need to relearn the same slow truths each turn through this sacred season. Maybe you do, too.
When hearts become ashes. “The mistake is thinking dust is the end. Dust is always the beginning. We were made to burn, but we were made to rise.”
Give yourself the gift of a Lent that grows. “I would like to humbly offer that many of us do Lent wrong. (Raises hand over here.) We expect that we will be different people…What if we tried the opposite? What if we expected to fall—and fall hard—but we built failure into our expectations? What if we gave it to God rather than trying to triumph in self-control?”
Food for the journey. “Lent calls us to trust that God will care for us like a loving parent. Offering food and water for the journey. Caring for us, body and soul. Traveling with us through 40 days of penance and preparation…Lent is meant to remind us that God provides.”
A mother’s prayer for Ash Wednesday. “Take the dirt of my life—the tempers lost, the doors slammed, the complaints muttered, the harsh words thrown, the dark doubts seethed—take all these flaws and failings and burn them blazing in the fire of forgiveness.”
The Lent that wasn’t (or always was). “The past year has felt like sleeping on a hard stone floor after a long day’s hike. So many of us are worn out and worn thin, and if one more person around us seems to be relaxing like life’s picture-perfect, we are going to lose it. But here’s the truth about Lent. This is precisely the point. Our own need and lack and flaws and humanity are exactly where God’s gifts and love and mercy and divinity are waiting to meet us.”
Three truths that parenting taught me about Lent. “Parents are no more in control of their child’s life than their own, despite our secret wishes, our deepest prayers and an entire industry of parenting experts, books and solutions…Lent is the same: a journey of humility. Not a do-it-yourself project of self-fulfillment, but a gift of growth to be received with head bowed. An invitation to turn back to the God who created us.”
Morbid? Motherhood & mortality. “Lent is a grateful time to practice all this death-talk, all this suffering-preparation. In small ways we choose to die to our own whims and wants, setting our sights on the deeper growth that comes from drawing further from our fears and nearer to God. As with our own short lives, we know that death lies at the end of this liturgical journey, too. Good Friday in all its starkness: church stripped bare, silence echoing in an empty tabernacle. But beyond this loss lies a truth equally baffling to comprehend: an Easter reversal of everything we thought we knew, a game-changer of existential expectation, a flip-side resurrection of death itself.”
Finally, an enormous thank you to everyone who donated to our fundraiser for Catholic Relief Services to support the people of Ukraine. Almost $25,000 has already been given (!!), and our family is deeply grateful for your generosity in honor of our daughters. But the need in Ukraine grows greater every day. May we keep going—especially in this time of almsgiving.
Peace,
Laura
Find my books here: Everyday Sacrament | Grieving Together | Prayers for Pregnancy & Birth | To Bless Our Callings | Living Your Discipleship