Retrospective: Ash Wednesday 2021

 

I wrote this two years ago... Although the pandemic eased, the sentiments are still the same. Thank you Lord for Lent and the opportunity to prepare our hearts and minds to receive the full measure of God's love through the Resurrection and Ascension. 

 

“God is good all the time.” That phrase has haunted me this year…

That phrase, ubiquitous, pithy, sugary-sweet, has followed me around and around (like David from Schitt’s Creek with his trademark smirk). Last year (and the start of this one) has not been “good.” We have marked time and ticked off days and planned for the future, but we haven’t celebrated; we haven’t felt it deep down. 

 

Ash Wednesday is usually my day. Of all the religious holy days, I claimed this one years ago. Feeling convicted at an Ash Wednesday service in Athens 20 years ago, I’ve made it a point to study the day and scripture and sermons with a renewed focus as an annual discipline. Sometimes, I share what I write and immediately feel bad because inevitably my new discipline leads me to Matthew 6:1-6... Hello, “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.” Note taken, Lord. 

 

I was going to keep quiet this year. I promise. 

 

I wasn’t even sure if I would observe today’s rituals or even give myself over to my normal Lenten devotions. Honestly, I couldn’t see how I could give anything else away… Or take on anything else. Ash Wednesday and Lent - They just weren’t going to happen for me this year. Enter, this afternoon’s events. 

 

Sydney’s weekly riding lesson was this afternoon. As an aside - My excitement over Sydney’s love of horses has been evident to all who know me well. Since she’s started lessons, I’ve been reminded of how much I love them, so with every new skill she’s acquired, my hopes for her continued commitment have grown. I really love to see her riding.

 

But I’m tired, y’all. I’m tired of working full time and having a part time gig. I’m tired of being with these kiddos 24/7 most of the time (they’ve only been at school two weeks in 2021). I’m tired of not going out to eat when I want, and I’m tired of not being able to get in the car and go spend the weekend with my parents or my sister if the mood strikes. I haven’t been on a date with my husband IN OVER A YEAR. My first haircut since February 2020 is tomorrow. 

 

And before you say, “Oh, she’s just been living in fear,” let me counter with - No, I’m not. This is pandemic normal for lots of people my age who live away from family support (especially grands who are willing to babysit or grands who can babysit without putting themselves in danger).

 

Back to this afternoon - We made it to the stables for our weekly lesson a little early today. Sydney was excited to catch and halter her horse ALL BY HERSELF THANK YOU, so I let her go, following closely behind. As soon as I saw the muddy field I looked down and realized that I forgot to change into my boots. I should give Sydney credit here- she tried to remind me to change. But, I was too busy answering a work email before we left to heed her advice. 

 

Staying close to the edge of the field, I kept mostly out of the mud that Sydney walked right through. She found Penny, put the halter on and started leading her to the barn. Penny didn’t want to come through the mud, so both her riding instructor and I helped out a bit. As I was walking back to the barn (on the other side of the fence, in the grass) I heard Sydney gasp and say “Mommy! I’m stuck!” First, the riding instructor, in her barn boots, tried to hold the horse and pull Sydney out. No luck. Another rider in tall boots tried to help and lost her horses. Finally, in my good running shoes, I waded through the ankle deep mud and pulled Sydney out of her boots and onto my back. Then, I got stuck. Wouldn’t you just know it? Eventually, someone got Sydney from me, I got my shoes out of the mud, and I trudged up the long drive back to my car, both shoeless and sockless in mid-February weather while Sydney started blissfully riding in the arena. 

 

A few minutes into my journey up the hill, I started laughing and couldn’t stop. It took getting stuck in the mud to hear God telling me to GET UP OUT OF THE MUD. And the voice of yet another Episcopal priest (a supply priest who graced our small parish during the early years of my marriage) started whirling around in my head finishing the phrase that has haunted me all year - “God is good all the time. All the time, God is good. But he’s never been easy.” 

 

He has never been easy. 

 

Not for me. Not in 2020 (or 2021). Not in motherhood. Not for career women. Not for wives. Not for daughters, or sisters, or friends. Not for communities. But Jesus is still Jesus. And if 40 days in the wilderness can bring us to the crucifixion and the RESURRECTION, then I can get up out of the mud and accept his call to an observance of a holy Lent. He is never easy. Easy was never promised. But all the time, God is good. 

 

Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (BCP 264)