When I started this post last weekend I had decided that journeying to the desert, both spiritually, and physically was a way to grow closer to God. Spiritually Lent is full of images of the desert and of turning away from the temptations of the world. Physically I had decided to “stay in” during these 40 days, to not spend money on coffee or dinners out, in the hopes to clear more time and space for prayer. Never in my imagination did I think the beginning of Lent would also be an emotional journey of emptiness, exposure and piercing loneliness.

As I said goodbye to my sweet boy, Bela, yesterday, I have been in a place where the sun is scorching and there is no protection from the winds of grief as they stir up minute upon minute. There is no cover and no place to hide. The ashes this morning certainly had a different symbolism and reminder of how fleeting life can be. For some, the (almost) 18 years I have cared for Bela may not seem fleeting. For others, the grief may not be understandable for “just a pet”. But from the first moment Bela chose me and this home, he has been so much more. But that may be a story for a different day, when I can find the joy in telling it.

Preparing for Lent initially, I reflected on the Covid pandemic and how sheltering in place was like a journey to the desert. We had to leave behind our routines and stay home. We ordered judiciously, or ventured out rarely, to prevent unnecessary trips to the store or for delivery people. I helped set up our online parish evening litanies and live-streamed Masses. I attended other virtual retreats and prayer events. It became a time, for me, full of the richest spiritual blessings and graces, at a time of so much pain and fear for others. I was not blind to the difficulties for others, but as an introvert (yes, really!) I relished staying home and participating in virtual events. I had the cats for company. I had more time to contemplate life and my faith and I treasured the depth of experience that I was having.

Like the Desert Fathers and Mothers who opted out of normal activities and retreated outwardly to the desert so that they could retreat inwardly toward God, I desire the same kind of solitude during these 40 days of Lent. It’s not a complete withdrawal because I can and will attend Masses, Stations of the Cross, as well as other Lenten prayer and scripture groups in person. I will be facilitating a Lenten group discussion as we read and pray with Crux, by Ascension Press (see note below). But, what began as a desire to be more intentional in that quiet time changed dramatically yesterday. It is a different quiet time that I am receiving than what I desired. What remains though, is time for personal prayer and reflection, a space to lean into scripture searching for words of comfort, and to practice mindful breathing and being present to each moment, even if that moment is filled with grief and a call to surrender to the crashing waves of those feelings.

If you choose to be intentional about the experience of Lent, I would ask what one thing you would like to retreat from during these 40 days? Would it be possible to do that, by carving out the space for more personal time for prayer and reflection? How might you change Lent from simply focusing on the discipline of “giving something up” to a change in your relationship with the distractions of world? I would love to hear from you and how it goes for you during Lent.

Also, a word of thanks to all of you who took the time to reach out via text or to comment on my post about Bela this morning. I haven’t been able to read them yet, but just seeing the updates has brought comfort. I think I will be able to read them tomorrow, until then, I am so grateful!

Wishing you a holy Lent with time to be open and receptive to the voice of the Spirit, Deena

As a note, Crux is available on the Ascension Press app with a discounted rate of $4.99 for 90 days of access. There are daily videos with Fr. Columba Jordan, Lenten challenges, prayers and reflections.

Image: a bird that Bela and I were watching from the window on Saturday. He seemed so peaceful by himself, a fitting image for my Lenten journey.