"The act of Lent is not about making God happy with us. It is about reminding our souls of something deep and true. We need God more than anything else."
As I approached Lent this year, I struggled to decide what I would either pick up or put down.
Some years I've given something up for Lent.
While others, I've chosen to pick something up.
Honestly, most years I have not found that either of those things drew me closer to God during Lent. I either didn't do a good job of choosing what to give or pick up, or I wasn't diligently about replacing or adding in prayer where I made the change.
This year I decided to give up coffee.
It's sort of funny because I had my first cup of coffee in about 7 years on December 17th. Coffee and I had a hit or miss relationship and so it's one of the first things I took out during my great gastro experience.
Once Sweet Daddy was confirmed positive with COVID, and we are all going to be hunkered down at least 14 days - that seemed to be a good time to try reintroducing coffee. I added it, and my favorite creamer (while 18 year old me drank it black, 45 year old me likes it light) to my Walmart delivery order and made my first cup.
Not every morning, but a few times a week, I would make one small cup and savor it while Peanut and I did DEAR time.
Each time I saw this mug set out in the kitchen, it would make me smile because even if it wasn't that day, I knew that coffee was again a possibility.
The mug gave me HOPE. Reminded me that gastro healing could be possible. That perhaps someday I would reintroduce all my favorites in moderation, in small quantities, but maybe one day I would taste things other than the slow transit foods that have become my norm.
Drinking this cup of coffee was never about taste. Because I discovered after 7 years, I could take or leave the taste. I'm now just as happy with my light herbal tea I replaced it with.
But it is about the experience. I love the feel of the mug. The sight of the warm liquid. The smell. I love that now my Xman has developed a love for coffee and we often share that first cup of the day. It's an experience.
For Lent, I decided that this would be the thing I would miss the most.
The daily reminder of the possibility.
I left this cup out by my coffee maker.
It's empty.
Waiting for Easter to become filled.
Each time I see this cup, I am reminded that we live in a Good Friday world.
We are all waiting for Easter morning in some light.
We are broken people. Living in a broken world. Looking for signs that the tomb is empty.
Each time I see this mug, I remind myself that there is HOPE. Because I know Easter is coming.
There may not be coffee in that mug today, just like my desperate prayers may not be answered today.
But one day that mug will be filled, one day my prayers will be answered.
Mama Warriors, maybe this morning your mug feels empty as well.
In Peanut's virtual church lesson this morning, the children's pastor asked her "What does an abundant life look like?"
We pondered that for a minute together.
Maybe an abundant life is embracing that the mug is empty today BUT that it will be filled.
Not lamenting or grumbling about the emptiness today, but rather living into the idea of the HOPE that one day it will be filled.
Maybe you are still feeling disconnected and separated today in the midst of making choices in the middle of a pandemic.
Maybe we are called to look at the emptiness we currently feel and know that one day the mug will be filled.
I agree we are in a time to dwell on our emptiness. As we are coming out of Covid quarantine here in our house slowly I am seeing how this long separation has effected us in different ways. I like the idea of not so much stressing on focusing on our emptiness now but to know that they will be filled sooner than later...
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