Relenting
Choosing a more grace-full age
We were on our way to get “ashed” yesterday when my husband asked whether I was sure my minestrone soup (which I was reheating for dinner that night) had no meat in it.
“I’m sure,” I told him. He nodded. Then, as if having a light bulb moment, he asked me. “Mom can have meat though, right?” (His mom is 100, and not Catholic.) I assured him she could, which led to a curious Google search about the age parameters for Catholic fasting and abstinence. Turns out … all three of us have aged out of fasting (59 is the upper limit).
I’m officially a geriatric Catholic. Who knew? We ate our soup anyway. And because just that morning my chiropractor encouraged me to change some of my body-care habits so that I will still be walking past the age of 65, I decided to take his advice and give up sweets (except fruit) for Lent. (Feel free to slap the dark chocolate bar out of my hands if you see me indulging.)
I have to say, I’ve been on the receiving end of a doctor’s “you need to do something about your weight” lecture more often than I care to think. In each and every case they were right. And in each and every case … I ignored them.
But this time his words fell on fertile ground, in part because he was so disarmingly gentle about it (having just beaten up my shoulder and hip with his Supercharged Vibrator thingy to shake the joints loose). “You know,” he said to me, “as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize that I can’t do all the things I used to do — I’ve had to make changes. I can’t run up and down the court without feeling it the next day. I can’t eat as much as I used to without feeling bloated. Part of the wisdom of experience is understanding limitations — so you can keep going.”
I wasn’t going to argue with that. I mean, I had walked into his office without a cane that day. He is definitely doing something right.
And so, this Lent I decided to express my gratitude to God for getting me this far … by taking better care of myself. Disengage from social media drama. Eat less sugar, walk the dog more. Breathe deeply, stand up straight. (There’s more, but that’s the part I need to say out loud, so I don’t slip back into old habits.) This year, I want to be “relentless” about Lent.
What are you doing this year?
Heidi, thank you for today’s reflection. I find that my care of my physical health has been greatly impacted by becoming a grandma. In the same way that it was easy for me to “give up” things like wine during my pregnancies for the health of my unborn children, I make choices that are hard for me because I want to be around to help with and love my grandchildren. Connecting these fasting moments with my spiritual life, my desire to be closer to Jesus and to part with the things that separate me from Jesus because they become idols of sorts, has been an ongoing challenge. But I know it’s important, so I persist even amidst the times I fall short. Right now, Lent in my life is a one day at a time thing. Please know that I’m praying for you and your family. And please pray for me, friend.