My Lenten Commitment

It's been three weeks since I took my last medication for depression.  So far, so good - - I guess.  Most days I could cry at any moment or small frustration, and about half of those times, I do.  At night when I go to bed I lay down and the weight of the day's events and the inadequacies I feel and the little messes and habits of my family and the tasks and priorities of tomorrow all build up within me and sometimes I just cry, cry, cry.  (not too often, though, which gives me great hope for a life without meds, and hope is SUCH a beautiful thing)

I know the majority of this is likely due to pregnancy emotions and the weaknesses I have due to the depression that God allows me to carry as one of my crosses.  However, it doesn't help that I know that my children have been less consistent in behaving as we have taught them.  Perhaps they sense my weakness and are taking advantage of it (whether or not they are aware that they are doing so).

A few days ago, after continuing to ponder the then-upcoming Lenten season, I decided that my focus would be to unite my small, daily frustrations and sacrifices to the very large, painful, and deathly sacrifice of our Lord.  I knew what I had to offer wasn't enough to even measure in comparison, but it was all that I knew was possible for me to do at this point.

And then it dawned on me.  This isn't a small thing - it's a very, very big thing!

God has allowed me, as He does all people, to have certain crosses and one of my big ones is depression.  Giving up the medication that helps me to handle things without excessive emotionality and with more consistency finds me in a place where I need Him so much more.  This is good.  But for someone who is used to taking care of herself and all around her all by herself, this is almost like adding some additional weights to the cross of depression that I carry.  This is good, too, but is actually harder than the former.

Acknowledging our weakness is one thing - for me, it's not hard to do as I am well aware of my many flaws.  Asking for help - well, that's quite another thing.  That takes me far, far away from my comfort zone.  I don't like being there.  But I need to be.  What a gift God has given me in giving me a cross, with some weights atop it, only to be there waiting - forever waiting - for me to ask Him to help me carry it!  And it's not just that, I realized, it's that in asking for help, in leaning on him, in sharing my burden, He has given me the opportunity to make this a lifelong habit that will make all crosses that come my way more bearable and, above all else, meaningful and useful!

So, I guess in this rambling post I am trying to say that I now realize that God has given me the perfect cross to carry and all He is asking of me is that I ask Him to help me carry it AND remember not to take back the cross whenever I feel less in need.

So, this is my Lenten commitment - to view my crosses as gifts of hope and beautiful transformation, as conduits of grace and hope, as beautiful, rough-hewn balance beams that lead me into His arms.

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As a quick endnote, I have come to firmly believe that any Lenten promise made must be kept meaningful by looking at as a long-term and hopefully permanent change.  For example, don't just give up the chocolate only to dive back into it after 40 days.  Instead, perhaps give up excessive intake of chocolate - and commit to it for the rest of your life!  Jesus' sacrifice of His life is one He won't take back; let's really follow our Shepherd's bloody footprints along the way of the cross by making our sacrifices permanent and, through Him, cleansing and purifying.