Fat and Ashes

In December of 2009, I began to think about Lent. I wasn't doing so on purpose, as its season was still a ways away. But I could see that during stressful times I turned to spontaneous fast food fixes and hours-long television binges, and I knew that God wanted me to actively give my stresses to Him rather than pretend they didn't exist while I watched an eighth consecutive hour of "Glee" on DVD and munched a calorie-packed value meal.

So I gave up both for Lent, with lasting results. My tendency to turn to either of these vices of mine first in times of stress has lessened significantly. (In fact, I was particularly stressed a couple of weeks ago when Andrew called to ask if he should bring home fries, a Dr. Pepper, or both, and I declined the offer altogether, surprising the both of us.) Thus, I thought I didn't really need to give anything up this year. And then I went to a women's conference at Pine Cove and discovered that worry still has me firmly in its grip. I've often joked that if worrying were an Olympic sport, I'd be a gold medalist. I take a problem and examine it from every possible angle to come up with what I think is the most efficient, practical solution. And in all that examination - which could be harmless in someone else's mind - amounts to worry for me. The what if questions linger around the edges of all my musings, and panic tends to set in.

If you are a more traditional-type Lenten observer, you may be wondering why I am not giving up food, resolving to eat soup and fish except on Sundays. Forgive me, please, for I came to Episcopalian-ism as a Baptist-from-birth, so my views on Catholic things are still rather Protestant and broad. Were I to resolve to eat soup and fish and generally eat lighter til Easter, I would probably have pigged out at our Mardi Gras meal at church last night. But since my Lenten fast of choice would have involved an all-night worry fest that would likely have resulted in an ulcer had I chosen to indulge myself before giving it all up, I opted simply to enjoy the food and then come home.

Tonight, I'll attend Ash Wednesday services at our church, remember that I was created from dust, and resolve to give Jesus my worries - which He freely takes. And what will I do to keep my focus on Him instead of worries? At the retreat, I began writing encouraging-for-me verses on index cards I can keep with me wherever I go, and I'll fill my mind with those for the next forty days (and beyond!) when worry threatens to crowd God's sovereignty and care for me out of my line of vision. The goal is to keep my mind steadfastly fixed on Him and in doing so find perfect peace, not a medal in worrying.