Hopes for a Messy Lent

The nature trail I walk on has been frozen for a while, with about a foot of accumulated snow on either side of the woodsy trail. This week has been sunny and unseasonably warm, so the snow and ice have been melting. This sounds like such a classically poetic thing, but the transition from frozen ground to blossoms happens slowly. In the time in between, it looks like flooded paths, boots sinking deep into thick mud, and occasional slips on hidden patches of ice. Transitions are messy, and that’s ok. That’s where the transformation happens. 

I appreciated this gentle reminder. Like my beloved trail, I’ve also been in a time of transition. I’m coming out of a difficult season, and a switch has happened: where there used to be more bad days than good ones, there are now more good days than bad ones. Thank God. After a much-needed string of good days though, it took me a long time today to admit this wasn’t one of them, to acknowledge the heaviness I felt, to be still and look at some old wounds that needed attention. It’s ok if things feel messy sometimes still. Healing, like spring, isn’t instant. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about my hopes for this Lent—our path to Pascha. I don’t want a perfect Lent; I want a transformational one, one that makes more growth and healing possible and paves the way for richer joy. The extra services, the scalpel-wielding prayers, the medicinal hymns, the added disciplines—I feel such a deep need for them now. Lent will be messy, and that’s how it should be. It’s where the transformation happens.