This is an imperfect post.

As part of my Lenten promise this year, I decided to spend time each day in prayer. Yeah, that's not so original, nor special (though I could do with a little more consistency in my prayer life...). Last year, I spent Lent getting comfortable with silence. Our world is a noisy one and being alone with my thoughts can be, well... scary. This year I wanted to be more aware of God in my everyday stuff, more accutely intuned to the whispers of God in my heart. I can't even really explain what it is that I'm hoping will be the result, but I spend time each day in prayer with my sketchbook. I really love art and I'd like to be better at it. There's something tremendously attractive to me about art as prayer -- I've even bought books on it. But I hesitate to actually do it. And I hesitated to share this part of my Lenten practice.

Because I'm afraid I don't "do it right." I'm get so caught up in my lack of ability that I paralyze myself from even trying it.

A few years ago, I got a book called "Wreck This Journal" for Christmas. The whole concept is "To create is to destroy." Basically, the creative process is messy. (Check out Keri Smith's other books and fun ideas at www.kerismith.com) Conceptually, I loved it. I asked for the book and I was so excited to get it. But I've never done anything with it, because I was afraid it wouldn't be good enough.

I WAS AFRAID I WOULDN'T DESTROY SOMETHING CORRECTLY!

Who thinks that?!

Obviously, however I wreck the journal will be fine. I was so caught up in my own expectations that I failed to enjoy the process. I failed to even start the process. (The truly ironic part? I've spent years telling people to just start writing. Don't get caught up composing the perfect text; put something on the paper, so you can figure out what needs improved and work with it.Physician, heal thyself...)

I recognize, though, that there is a lesson in all of this. I can't quite articulate it just yet. "God doesn't ask us to be successful, just faithful"works here, but I think there's more to it than that. Something along the lines of how my own expectations can prevent me from seeing God or cooperating with God's grace. It sparks in my heart a longing for a deeper meaning, a better understanding, a greater turning of my imperfect art-prayer-self to my God who creates everything anew, even as I delight in the process of creating.

Only a few days into Lent, the process has already brought about some surprising results, including the previous post. (And who knew you could get drawing lessons by iMessage?) I'm not sure where this will take me, but I'm looking forward to the process.

Lent is a season of purification and enlightenment. Sometimes, that isn't perfect and it gets messy. And that's ok.

(As always, the views expressed here are mine alone and do not necessarily reflect those of my employer.)

Drawing Lessons.

drawing lesson by iMessage + Lenten commitment to prayer = seeing the Light better

Advent Fail; Lenten Hope

Yes, friends, I know that Advent (and Christmas!) are both over, and Lent has yet to begin. We are, as the liturgically-minded well know, pretty much smack in the middle of the first Ordinary Time. Actually, this post is most fitting during this season, as Ordinary Time is a season of growth and hope of life in Christ.

Advent Fail.
Advent is a time of preparation and joyful anticipation. It is the season when we, as a Church, remember Israel's waiting and longing for a Messiah, just as we wait in joyful anticipation of the coming of Christ at the end of time. We hear in the readings that we are to be ready for redemption is at hand. We light the candles on the Advent wreath as a reminder that the Light of the World has overcome the darkness.

I was ready for redemption. End of suffering? Bring it! Stepping out of the darkness and into the light? I've got my sunscreen ready!

But Christmas came. And Christmas went. While it was happy, certainly, it was not the joyful celebration I had hoped it would be. The baby Jesus had been placed in the manger, but the joy of the Lord was not placed in my heart. The pain, suffering and sadness remained.

It wasn't until after the Advent wreath was put away, and the Christmas tree and creche packed up for another year that I realized what had gone so terribly wrong.

Christ did not fail to come. I did.

I was not preparing for Christ to come. I was preparing for my suffering to end. I was not joyfully anticipating the arrival of my Savior. I was joyfully anticipating the arrival of relief from pain and sadness, and even that anticipation was not so joyful, but nearly demanded. I was so preoccupied with my own condition, so caught up in the hurt that I was feeling, so engulfed in my own self that I nearly missed it.

Christ did not fail to appear. Surely, Christ is present in the world, during Advent, Christmas, and now.

I failed to recognize Christ's presence.

I was so preoccupied with the love I wanted, but didn't have, that I failed to recognize the love being poured over me. Christ is present in that love.

I was so concerned with the lack of peace in my family that I failed to recognize the peacefulness of the snow-blanketed earth and sleeping babies. Christ is present in that peace.

I was so longing for joy on my terms that I failed to recognize the joy of dinner with old friends, and of a child's awe-filled wonder at Christmas. Christ is present in that joy.

Christ is present in the world. Like the Magi, we must seek Him.

Today I had coffee with two wonderful, faith-filled women. At one point our conversation turned to the suffering in the world, suffering far greater than my pain in the neck and unrest in my family: The earthquake in Haiti. The loss of a child. The death of a grandparent. The suicide of a college student. Our discussion did not linger on the senselessness or intensity of these sufferings. Rather, it was a proclamation of gratitude for the gift of faith during times of suffering.

Suffering is senseless, she said, until you connect it to the Cross. It is by our faith, she noted, that we have hope despite our suffering. Even when we are experiencing Good Friday, we are promised Easter Sunday.

In three weeks, we will fill our parishes, receive our ashes, and go out into the world with the words, "Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel" echoing in our ears. We will enter, with the Catechumenate, into the period of Purification and Englightenment. I'm actually looking forward to Lent this year. I hope to be purified and enlightened. I hope I can learn how to be graceful in suffering, because suffering is so often grace-filled, when we can see Christ present.

In the meantime, in Ordinary Time, I pray that I come to more fully recognize the love, peace, joy and hope of Christ present in the world.

Ashes, Hell, Ask, Seek, Knock, Clean out, Election...

Sometimes, everything comes together in ways that only God can make happen, and it seems I'm headed down the path to one of those spiritual revelations.

On Ash Wednesday, Fr. Gene's homily was simple. The point was this: Give up whatever you want. Or don't. Lent is about figuring out how to get out of your personal hell.

Really, the way to get out of personal hell (or literal hell) is to turn to God. My favorite Lenten hymn says, "Come back to me with all your heart. Don't let fear keep us apart." In "giving up" something for Lent, we're really being called to surrender it all to God.

At the prayer service for the HCHS retreat on Saturday, Mama T talked about Ask, Seek & Knock. Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened. All we have to do is ask. God will give it to us.

Tonight, at Youth Ministry, we talked about Lent. Specifically, we talked about fasting -- giving up something for Lent, or taking on something, and the real purpose. The real purpose is to empty all the junk out of the God-shaped spaces, holes, crevices, cracks in our lives, and to take on those things that will help us draw near to God, so God can fill those spaces.

Tonight is also the Rite of Election. And it is in the Rite of Election that we celebrate that God has chosen us. Long before we chose God.

Figure out what is holding you in your personal hell.
Surrender it to God. Give it up. Clear out the junk.
Ask God to fill the spaces in your life.
Seek ways to draw closer to God.
Knock, and the door will open. Because God has already chosen you.
It's going to be a good Lent...