Reflections on Lent

I apologize that for the last week or so my posts have been consumed with detailed information about my cycle (not that people normally come here to read insightful, thought-provoking posts or anything). The end of Lent passed by, Easter came and went, and all I could think about was spotting.

On Easter Sundays past, I typically indulged in whatever food item I gave up for Lent (usually chocolate). This year, though, Easter didn't mark the end of a fast because I gave up impatience or, you could say, I worked on having patience. I'm not sure how I did and, actually, I should re-read some of my Lenten posts to see if they sound impatient. When Lent first began I looked up the definition of patience, just to be sure what I was attempting. I guess in the past I had thought of patience more as something to do purely with time. I thought maybe I would simply have to find a way to not focus on the future so much. To my surprise, the definition actually said something to the effect of "to suffer without complaint" or "to bear trials calmly." How fitting! That was exactly what I was in need of. And what could be more Christ-like than suffering without complaint? Christ was patient. He was patient in the garden of Gethsemane, he was patient while he carried the cross, he was patient as he was crucified. I hadn't really thought about patience in this way before, as something to imitate from Christ (and, to be honest, I didn't think of it until Lent was already over).

Patience is perhaps what I need more than anything else during this difficult journey through infertility. I complain a lot. I cry out in anger to God almost every day. I do not bear my suffering well, to say the least. I would absolutely love to reach a point where I can accept my suffering (because as long as I am infertile I think I will be suffering on some level) and keep it neatly wrapped up inside. I don't mean that I want to internalize it and blow up someday, but I think there's something to be said for not complaining and bearing that trial calmly. I need to suffer like Christ suffered, and be patient like he was patient. I can have a dialogue with God about it, but I should not be angry with Him. Christ prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as You will.” He didn't add on "... as long as what you will is for this cup to pass from me!"

Infertility is cruel. We all suffer and it's hard to suffer without complaining (we are human, after all). So how do I have patience? I'm still not quite sure. I guess when it comes to a practical application I just need to pray each time I feel like complaining. That's the only way I can try to do this. I need to try to imagine Christ and how he suffered, and model my actions after his. So simple, yet so difficult!

What I've learned so far this Lent

My first 15 minutes of silent prayer went well yesterday (although after I finished my post I completely forgot that I had just written that I was going to pray and only remembered after checking email and a few websites). I had a nun (actually a sister, but for the sake of not confusing it with one of my biological sisters, I'll call her a nun) instruct me once to sit in a chair with my feet planted firmly on the ground and close my eyes. So I do this, and then ask God to speak to my heart. It's sometimes hard at first because I like to fidget, but I usually calm down after a few minutes and then the time flies. Between yesterday and today I think I had a few good topics come up while I prayed. I'll share them here from time to time, for no other reason than so I can reflect on them and perhaps they'll help someone else as well.

Yesterday, while in prayer, I think God was trying to get me to examine my motives for wanting a pregnancy. Now, I know He knows I want to raise up children to worship Him, because I have told him this a hundred times. I don't think He thinks my heart is entirely in the wrong place. But I do think He is questioning this immense desire for so-called joy that I say I have. You know, that feeling of complete happiness and accomplishment and celebration that we see others experience and we feel left out? I think the Super Bowl first brought it to mind, just imagining how it must feel the night of a Super Bowl win. Then I thought about it again while watching American Idol, the complete joy the contestants who get a yellow ticket to Hollywood must feel. I think seeing a positive pregnancy test would feel that way, and lately I've begun to covet that feeling. Not that there's anything wrong with joy or being happy about a pregnancy; of course God longs for us to be joyful and learning of a pregnancy has been a joyful time for people throughout history. But it's the coveting of that feeling where I go wrong. I obsess over it, imagine what it must feel like, feel sorry for myself that it appears unattainable, jealous of those who experience it in any form. This is where it goes from actual joy to a worldly desire for pleasure. I think God is trying to get me back on track. Like I said, He knows my intentions are pure for the most part, but this infertility thing can mess with your head. Plus, I think He wants to remind me that joy is there for the taking and I don't need a pregnancy to experience it. Right now that is a hard pill to swallow, but deep down I know it's true. I just can't seem to figure out how to feel it right now.

I've also been trying to focus on trusting in God's will. Along with working on having patience this Lent, I am also going to try to trust God. I had an insight into this the other day while brushing my dog Sophie's hair. She's a Lhasa Apso (the ones in the dog shows who have hair all the way to the ground..it must be a full-time job to keep up with that) and for the past three years I haven't been good about brushing her hair and she always becomes all matted and then we have to take her to get shaved. So I'm trying something new and brushing her hair every day or so. For the most part she must like it because she sits still, but the other day I must have hit a knot because she went nuts. She immediately jumped up, barked at me and showed me her teeth to which I replied, "Sophie, I'm doing this for you!" I realized that, obviously, she can't possibly understand that I have her best interest in mind. Her reaction comes from an inability to trust me in this situation. Well, I immediately thought of how this parallels my own problems with God. Infertility is causing me pain and I blame Him for this. Why? Because I don't trust Him. If I trusted Him I would take the pain because I know He has my overall best interest in mind. But, just like Sophie, I growl and bark at Him because of a lack of trust. I know this is something I need to work on and so I'm going to try to pray something simple this Lent that is second nature to Catholics but I, for one, don't really mean it: Thy will be done. Maybe if I pray it with my head, my heart will follow.

This is kind of a hodge-podge post, and I know this is getting long, but I wanted to include a story of something that happened last night at Ash Wednesday Mass. I had to go alone because my husband works nights and I went to a church closer to our house, instead of where we normally go. The place was packed; I had to park on the road a distance away and had to stand, along with dozens of others, in the back of the church. At the end of the homily the priest announced that high school students were going to assist in handing out the ashes. When I reached the front of the line a high school boy put his hand to my forehead and proceeded to absolutely drench me in ashes. I felt them all over my nose. I watched them fall onto my shirt. As I turned to walk back I put my hand to my nose only to realize I had probably just smudged a small portion of what was covering my face. I put my head down (of course I had worn my hair in a pony tail so there was no hiding) and I felt like people were staring and I swear I heard laughing (I'm sure I didn't really, but it's amazing what your mind can do). Let me just say, too, that I'm not someone who likes to show off their ashes. I've heard the debate about whether people who like to wear their ashes should go to an evening Mass, while those who are embarrassed of them should go in the morning. I would definitely be someone who should go in the morning, because it would truly be a penance for me to wear them all day, worrying if people were looking at and judging me. So while walking back I immediately began to think that God must have done this to me because He knows I don't like them and was trying to teach me humility. Well, if so, it worked. But then I began to think that my huge amount of ashes must be proportionate to the amount of sin I've committed this past year. Kind of like coal in your stocking at Christmas, God was showing the world, or at least this packed parish, that this woman was really bad. Finally I reached the back of the church and kept walking, looking for a bathroom. I found it, prayed no one would look at me as I entered, and luckily found an open stall just inside the door. I closed the stall door behind me, whipped out a compact with mirror and saw the horror - it was pretty bad. I wiped it all off, tried to wipe off my shirt, and calmly walked out to the sink area. As I was washing my hands, a woman walked in laughing - with ashes all over her face! She was complaining about the high school boy who did it when another pretty young girl heard her and said that was why she was in the bathroom too. So I chimed in, and immediately felt better. So maybe it wasn't some big lesson about what a horrible person I am! But then again, there are probably a few lessons in there somewhere.

Prayer

I'm feeling good today, although a bit hesitant about my Lenten sacrifice of impatience and nervous that I will fail. My good spirits may be due to the weather outside - it is in the 70's and I'm a life-long northerner so I feel like I'm vacation - or to hormones. But, nonetheless, I haven't been impatient this Lent as of 3:30 p.m. EST.

Something I have been thinking about today, though, is prayer. I will need prayer to help me with patience throughout the next forty days. But I'm just not good at it. I loved having my weekly hour of perpetual adoration before we moved because it forced me to pray and also opened me up to new forms of prayer, namely sitting in silence and listening to God speak. Left to my own devices I am just not disciplined enough to pray. I think this is because my mind is constantly racing and thinking about a million different things (right now my topic of choice is paint colors for our new home). Or else I find a million things to do other than praying - there's just a couple more websites I need to check first or I might be missing something on t.v. This is so bad! I love God, so why isn't this love motivation enough? Do I love t.v. or the internet or decorating rooms more? Then, as you see, I fall into the whole guilt thing and am hard on myself. But nothing changes.

It's not that I don't pray. What I am good at is praying all day long, wherever I am. I pray while reading others' blogs. I pray when I hear of someone's sickness or death. I pray in a tempting situation when I need God's help. I pray when I'm depressed. But I just don't feel like it is enough and I know I have enough time on my hands to do much more. I also know that I need prayer to get me through infertility and I definitely haven't done what I should be doing in that department.

I also have a problem with how to pray. I have had assistance with this and have gotten better at it, but I'm still not sure I'm maximizing its potential. Like I said before, I have trouble concentrating during prayer. I try to pray at night while I lie in bed and before I know it I'm thinking about something else. How rude that is to God!

I obviously need to work on prayer this Lent. I really like the sitting in silence idea. Maybe instead of loading myself up with lofty goals of starting the Diving Office or some other sort of formal prayer (and setting myself up for failure) I will simply put aside some time to pray in silence, shutting out everything else and listening to God speak to me (heaven knows I need His input right now). I will start small, say 15 minutes a day, and increase it when I feel like I want to (again, so I don't set myself up for failure).

Now the problem is actually doing it. So I guess I will end this post and do it. Right now. Before I lose motivation, or check my email, or turn the t.v. on. Wish me luck.

An experiment in patience

With Lent just around the corner, I've been thinking a lot about what I'm going to focus on for these forty days. I've been trying to figure out how I'll go into the desert with the Lord - what should I give up, what should I start doing, how can I become a better Christian. I keep coming back to one thing - infertility, and it's not because of my obsession with it (well, maybe a little). Rather, it's because I need to, once and for all, begin to focus on the things I've been avoiding: Hope. Patience. Trusting God's will.

This may not sound like anything new. Hope, patience and trust are practically all I blog about. But the difference this Lent is that I'm going to stop talking and start doing.

I'm starting with patience. It's an underlying problem that needs to be tackled before I can begin to try to have hope or trust. It's something I need to work on to get me through each day.

pa·tience /ˈpeɪʃəns/ – noun: 1. the quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like.

The definition of patience (from dictionary.com) really struck me. When I think about what it means to be patient I usually think it means getting through the day without being obsessed with infertility. It means getting rid of that anxious feeling in my chest when I think about how I want to be pregnant RIGHT NOW. But I never thought it had anything to do with not complaining. Reading this definition is actually what inspired me to become patient. In that one definition a directive was given to me, an actual instruction of how to accomplish it. Don't complain. Bear your misfortune, your pain, without complaining, becoming irritated or losing your temper. I'm an instructions person; I need to be told exactly how to do something. So this is a good start.

2. an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay

The important term here is willingness. I clearly don't currently have the ability. I may not even currently have the willingness; despair can be a comfortable place. I am very familiar with being irritable, angry, annoyed, impatient. But that's what Lent is for. I am going to be willing to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay because it is Lent and I owe that to God.

3. quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence.

Perseverance. Even-tempered. Diligent. So not me! But, again, these are good instructions on how to be patient.

So how do I become patient? How do I suddenly stop complaining and become that even-tempered person I've always dreamed of? I think the secret ingredient, for me at least, is to simply act like I am. It worked when I was trying to have faith, so I should have faith that it will work when I'm trying to have patience.

So here's what I'm going to try to do:

1. I will try not to complain (not about infertility in general, but about the time-table)
2. I will try to be more even tempered and not completely break down
3. If I feel a break-down coming on, I will pray
4. I will set small goals, looking forward to the things happening in the days and weeks ahead
5. I will act outwardly as if I am patient

Don't get me wrong, I'm not sure this will work. I'm not sure I won't fail. But I've got to start somewhere or I'm just going to drown. Like I've said before, I know God doesn't want me to act like this. He's asking me to follow Him out of this. I'm not happy with myself, I don't want to be so hopeless, so impatient, irritable, angry.

I don't think there's anything wrong with my natural reactions to infertility. It's completely normal to be depressed and to grieve. But God wants me to grow as a result of this as well, or else it would be a complete waste of time.