Saturday, April 7, 2012
I started out early, imagining big plans of grand penances.
Instead this Lent has been an appropriately humbling time in which the little things that are usually a part of my everyday routine, like praying the Divine Office (at least in the morning and at night) and praying the rosary as a family at night (which we've been doing for years) have suddenly become infinitely more difficult.
I could blame the pregnancy, but I think that would be more than a little bit dishonest. If I can go out and walk 4-8 miles every day than I certainly have the energy to say my prayers before heading out the door. And while there has been a certain amount of forgetfulness involved, there have been equal part procrastination and laziness too (spiritually).
I woke up this morning, while the apartment was still silent, and tried to pray in the darkness, asking for forgiveness for my utter failure to do half of the things I promised to do when Lent began... and felt absolutely and complete spiritual dryness. As I lay still, knowing that any movement, no matter how silent, seems to wake up the entire house (it's like they have a Mommy-radar!) I couldn't help but think that it this time, between Good Friday and Easter Vigil, that the lack of feeling that is spiritual dryness seemed particularly appropriate.
This is only the second time I've felt, or more specifically not felt, the way I do this morning. The first time it was for fleeting moments while I was praying and I panicked. The not feeling was so strong and I almost felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. It was a hole, a silence where there had always been a pleasant hum of love that had carried me along, shortcomings and all. It didn't last long, only a few minutes, and I wondered if God had found my faith so horribly lacking in those moments when I was not being supported by pleasant palatable feelings of hope and love and had decided that I wasn't quite ready for whatever spell of dryness he had in store. Or perhaps, it was only a glimpse of what could be, a reminder, yet again, not to be overly attached to feelings that should not be the source of our faith.