Where I am running...

Yesterday, was a busy day full of appointments, therapies, and obligations. All I wanted to do was anything but.

Yesterday, I didn't plan to do the 8am mass because I thought I would go to the noon Ash service.  When I stopped at church at noon with one  of my special needs sons  in tow  having went there straight from his Dr. appt--a Dr. appt that left me feeling completely mentally drained;  as if all the positive energy had been sucked from my body by aliens--It became clear within 20 minutes, there was no way I would get my ashes before the time I had promised the babysitter I would be back home to relieve her, and so we had to leave...no ashes, no goal accomplished on that front. I felt like I had just missed the Lord in passing. Like when you go to someones house you really looked forward to seeing only to learn you just missed them. Bummer.

We drove home with Sean saying something about wanting a big diesel poster the entire way home as I replayed the Dr. office visit in my mind and audibly gave that Dr. the perfect comeback under my breath, 30 minutes too late. All the way home. If Sean wondered who Mommy was talking to he didn't ask and to be honest, I had heard this "big diesel" plea about 100 times in the Dr. waiting room so I was in the zone and that zone did not include more train talk.

The 5pm mass meant we would have to miss three dance classes to make the schedule work.

I was happy my girls were on board with my game plan to ditch dance class and head to the church.

Because I couldn't get there fast enough.

5 O'clock couldn't arrive fast enough.

It felt like those scenes in the movies where the man and woman run and embrace at the end in a happy ending, but I wasn't running into someone's arms.

I was running to Jesus' feet.

This Lent is my 40 days to strip it down, strip the gloss and get down to the nitty gritty of what I need.

And what I need is Jesus.

Blogland can seem perfect because we only show what we want to show. The one time I showed a sink full of dirty dishes in a blog post (This post in fact), I had two friends and one family member ask me "Why on earth did you put that picture in there?  Um, because sometimes that is what my kitchen sink looks like.  Because If people came to my house, it would not look perfect. When they come to see me at my blog, I am not perfect.

I am the yeller in my family. (TRYING to be more soft spoken)

I am the one with a sailor mouth in our family (really working on that one by the way).

And, I love coca-cola (That, my favorite thing, is what I have given up for Lent) and so now I am on day two of a pretty massive caffeine withdrawal headache that makes the yelling and sailor mouth all the much harder.

But this is my Lent.

and it is not pretty. or perfect.

It is me saying, I need. I want. I love....you, Lord.  I yell and I curse and I am quick to anger and easily frustrated and occasionally quite self absorbed in the busy-ness of the business of being me and I want to take this 40 days to be with you....Lord.

I am a wife and a mother of 5 and two of those have special needs and I need to start--walk--and end my day with you...Lord.

I want to sit at your feet, me with all my sin and worry, and know that you can transform it.  and that is what I am longing for this Lent...for it to not be obligatory ash and fish but for it to be transformative, like only you can make it.

As I sit at your feet.

**All the pictures in this post were taken at Notre Dame Cathedral, by me.

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Blessings to you all,