Entering Holy Week

Lent is heavy on my heart, weighing on my shoulders and invading my dreams.
Tomorrow we celebrate Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem on the back of a young donkey. We will wave the palms and sing Hosanna!

For the contemplative person grief can be compounded by this season. For me it has been a necessary part of the four year journey we've been on. Indeed, it was about four years ago this month that I first began making written notations of Lucius' behavioral changes. He wasn't diagnosed with the brain tumor until August of that year, so there was a time period of wondering and questioning. Sort of what I find myself doing during Lent.

Two days ago I had an appointment with my counselor at the Pastoral Institute. A wonderful woman I began seeing the first year of Lucius' illness. She lost her husband in a car wreck, so she is familiar with grief and the aftermath. I was lamenting some things I wish I had done differently over the past few months and sharing my disappointment and grief over an issue the girls and I were struggling with. She gave me several gems of wise counsel that I will treasure forever. Among them was her suggestion that I avoid people who were overly critical or givers of unsolicited advice. When I asked why, she replied, "You do such a good job beating yourself up, and as strong as you are, I don't think you can hold up under anyone else doing it." Ouch!

I felt free and equipped to move forward. Sometimes you just need a gentle push.

Maundy Thursday is next week. After the triumph and joy on Palm Sunday, I will again be in the choir loft, but the songs won't be joyful. They will be anguished and filled with great sorrow and regret. But, Easter is coming.

I am making an Easter Basket in my soul this year. I am placing in it all the good gifts I have been given. My basket, and my cup overflows. Thanks be to God.

There is a story about a Navajo grandfather who told his grandson, "There are two wolves who live inside of me. One is the bad wolf, full of greed and laziness, full of anger and jealousy and regret. The other is the good wolf, full of joy and compassion and willingness and a great love for the world. All the time these wolves are fighting inside me."
"But grandfather," the boy said. "Which wolf will win?"
The grandfather answered, "The one I feed."

Peace,
Lisa