Lenten Practice Check-in: Thursday's Reflection

Ash Wednesday was February 26. 

In my journal that day I wondered what my Lenten practice might be. I was reading Marcus Borg's book, Convictions, written when he was 70, and he ponders how Ash Wednesday is a reminder that we are all mortal and marked for death. 

I wondered if I could use the 40 days of Lent to prepare for my own death. I asked myself what I would not want to leave undone and what might be helpful for my survivors. I had a number of ideas.

One was to complete, page by page, a workbook called I'm Dead, Now What? Important Information about My Belongings, Business Affairs, and Wishes. Peter Pauper Press

Another was to dedicate myself to working on my memoir. Writing and revising two more chapters seemed like a reasonable goal for that time. 

A third plan was to thin out my bookshelves in the garret; to decrease the numbers of books in my spirituality and theology library. The more I eliminate now the easier it will be for my loved ones later on. We have many Little Free Libraries in our neighborhood where I could donate my books. 

On Ash Wednesday I had no idea how life would change. The week after I received the ashes on my forehead, my father fell a number of times and soon was confined to bed and is now in his end-of-life days. No longer was I thinking about my own death, but the focus became my Dad, as he approaches his death.

And, of course, no one needs to remind us of the changes we are all experiencing because of the Covid-19 crisis, and the fear and paralysis most of us confront. My Lenten practices seem fitting, but my ability to fulfill them was limited, emotionally and practically.

All was not lost, however, and most days I kneeled in front of one of my bookshelves and book by book decided what to keep and what was ready for a new owner. My goal was to eliminate one book every day. 40 books. 

I am happy to report that I went beyond that goal and my bookshelves are now 90 books lighter. My bookshelves are breathing a bit easier. 

On Easter Sunday I opened each book, in order to erase my name from bookplates or a front page, but all of a sudden I started second guessing myself. Maybe I will read this book again. Or to be honest, maybe I will actually read this book for the first time. Or I loved this book I can really give it up? 

And that's when it became a real Lenten practice. It was time to let go, time to surrender, time to focus on what it is I most need to live a life connected to God as I move closer, day by day, to my own death. 

I still want to continue work on my memoir and also on the BIG BLUE BOOK, and I trust that will be possible eventually, but in the meantime each day as I return home from my Dad's apartment I take detours, cruise down neighborhood blocks looking for Little Free Libraries. This week, as I dash from my car to one of those charming boxes with an armload of books, I have felt like the Easter Bunny hiding eggs. I trust my books will land exactly where they need to be. 

And I trust that I am doing what I can do, need to do right now, and doing that is the heart of spiritual practice.  

An Invitation
Did you have a Lenten Practice? How has that fared these last weeks? What are your current spiritual practices? I would love to know.