The Burden that is Light

Life is heavy.

We'd like to think that it isn't. Or at least, we usually act like it isn't. But it is. Life is heavy.

I've been reflecting on this lately, and I think best in analogies.

It's as though each of us has a pack in which we carry this weight. The weight is different for each person, but each of us has to carry it.

No one else can see the pack we carry...how big it is, how full. No one can judge the weight. Only we know how light or heavy that pack is.

We each have one. In it we carry our hopes. Our dreams. Our plans. Our secret longings. And with that comes the weight of the unknown...the unseen...the someday...the hoped for...our castles in the sky. And though we are fond of these dreams...they come with a weight.

Our pack holds our hurts. Our wounds. Our scars. The secret fears we would rather no one knew of. Some of these have the weight of shame...others the weight of regret. Some just have the weight of the past. And the past can be a heavy thing.

We carry our loves in that pack. Our family. Our friends. Those dearest to us. These people make life beautiful, and they impact us in a particular way. In fact, in some small way we begin to carry the burdens of those we love...it's part of how we love them. So we not only carry our loves...but with us we carry a part of their burdens.

It's easy to see how quickly our pack becomes full and heavy. 

Life is HEAVY.

It carries a weight...because it is important. Life matters. Your hurts, your joys, your dreams, your pain...matter. The burdens of those around you matter. 

Sometimes it is REALLY hard to carry all those burdens...especially the burdens of those we love. They hurt. Lately I've seen a lot of people I love dealing with difficult situations, heartache and loss. It hurts. And yet, we have a hope. 

"Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light." (Matt. 11:28-30)

Sometimes I'd rather carry this pack on my own. I'm little, but I'm strong. I've got this. And I know my lot isn't all that heavy, and yet to me it seems quite heavy at times. And there is something freeing about having another to walk with.

Our God knows well those who labor and are burdened. 

So today, Father...take my hopes. Take my dreams. Take my plans. My hurts. My fears. Carry those I love. Carry their needs. Because life is HEAVY. 

But YOUR burden is light. 

Why I Want Lent to be Harder

LENT.

I love Lent. No, I'm not being facetious. I really do love Lent.

I LOVE black and white. Concrete parameters. Step by step instructions. Definitive directions. So I LOVE the particulars of Lent. Starting Ash Wednesday every year we enter into a very specific season in the life of the Church. With the "everyone's doing it" positive peer pressure of our fellow Catholics, it's "easy" to pick some sort of penance or self denial for these 40 days. I like the challenge. 

However.

I am TERRIBLE at Lent.

Why? Well, one, because I can be really internally whiny when I give things up. This year I'm giving up the snooze button and getting up right away when my alarm goes off. And even though I've done it (for the whole two days since Lent started *cue the golf clap*) you can bet that there is an internal monologue about how sad/cold/tired/miserable I am in those ten seconds it takes me to get out of bed. So...there's that. 

But also...I'm bad at Lent because I'm good at going through the motions of Lent. I'm good at perfecting my penance (notwithstanding my whining), sticking to it, and emerging on Easter Sunday...exactly the same as I began. And that kind of makes me feel like I'm missing the point. Shouldn't something about Lent change me? I mean, if I'm going to give up those precious minutes of sleep, shouldn't that have an impact on my life?

I want Lent to hurt a little more than usual. I want to feel the sting of self-denial. And not just for the sake of looking or feeling hard-core in my sacrifice. But because I want to be different at Easter.

I want to be a better wife. A better daughter. A better sister. A better friend. I want my heart to be ready for Easter. I want the reality of Christ's Passion, Crucifixion, and Resurrection to have a real impact on me. 

SOOOO much easier said than done. I know, because I pretty much say the same thing every year. And really...it sounds kind of cliché in a lofty ambition kind of way. 

But specifically this year, my prayer is that Lent will change me. That (albeit slowly) jumping out of bed to start my day will discipline this heart. That I'll actually take advantage of that extra time that I'm not sleeping and spend it in prayer. That I'll be more honest, real, vulnerable and silent with the Lord...and that I'll allow Him to change me for the better.

I don't expect to be a living saint by April 5th. But I hope and pray, by the grace of God, I'll be a few steps closer to Christ and slightly more the woman that He has created me to be. 

Hopefully writing this will make me feel guilty if I don't follow through. Good old Lenten peer pressure ;)