Faithful 100 Percent

When my son was a preschooler, one of our favorite bedtime stories was Dr. Suess’s Horton Hatches the Egg. As the story goes, the lazy bird Mazie asks Horton (the elephant) to sit on her unhatched egg while she flies south to warmer climates for a little vacation. Horton agrees, climbs up and balances himself on the tiny next and stays there. And stays there. Neither wind nor storm nor traveling circus scouts can distract him from his task. Through the duration, his mantra is: “I meant what I said and I said what I meant, an elephant’s faithful 100 percent.”

Lately, I’ve been thinking about Horton. There is a pigeon that has taken over a vacant nest above our porch that was abandoned by some other birds last year. About two weeks ago, she and her mate moved in on a Saturday. From the living room window, I could see her working feverishly for most of the afternoon, rearranging the place and, well, nesting. He watched over her that first day, then disappeared. But she hasn’t moved from that nest. Like Horton, she’s stuck to her objective through high winds, a snow storm, cold temperatures and many days and nights. Truth be told, I’m in awe of her perseverance.

When Lent started four weeks ago, I made my usual commitments to give up sweets, then proceeded to fall off the wagon. (The next day.) Then I told God that—forget the sweets (they weren’t really important after all)—I was going to make a commitment to do an act of kindness for someone every day during Lent. Then, I got wrapped up in myself and my daily to dos and forgot about that. It seems like every day for the last four weeks I’ve been saying, “I’ll just start over again tomorrow.”

Then it occurred to me that maybe the entire exercise of trying to sacrifice something during Lent is just to help give us a little perspective on what true faith really means—and remind us that we are only human. Think giving up sweets for 6 weeks is tough? Imagine knowing you were going to suffer and die by crucifixion, yet trusting The Plan because you know God loves you (and his people) that much--and that better things are ahead. THAT’s Faithful 100 percent. And that’s the kind of faithfulness I want.

“Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” ~Hebrews 13:5

Lenten Practices

Lent begins tomorrow. I've been trying to prepare (mentally) ... despite a crazy schedule, packed with too many ridiculous time-wasters. I've been thinking about what I can do. In past years, I've given up chocolate, cookies, cakes, muffins, etc.

A few years back, my husband worked with a man from the Philippines. T shared a story the man had told him about his Village's annual Lenten ritual. Each year, one man is selected from their island to represent Jesus, and The Passion is re-enacted. This chosen man is beaten, forced to carry a heavy wooden cross and then nailed (yes, through his hands) to this giant cross. Then, the man is taken down --where he wades into the nearby sea to wash his wounds. I was amazed to hear this story. "I thought about you ...giving up your chocolate," T told me after relating this story. Point taken.

So, I've been thinking. What could I do that is, at least, a little ... bigger? I've decided to try and do an act of kindness each of these 40 days. My rules are this: (1) It can't be something I would do normally (i.e. make dinner; wash stinky boy clothes). (2) I have to keep a record in my journal of what I do. Not to share. Just as a form of accountability. (3) I have to step outside my comfort zone with these acts. (4) It can't be about my getting "credit" or "kudos." In other words, if these kindnesses can be pulled off anonymously, all the better. (Of course, now that I've told you--that kind of ruins the element of surprise for the two of you who actually read my blog). (5) These kindnesses can't just be for family. That's too easy. Self-awarded bonus points can be earned for helping a complete stranger. I've even brainstormed a list of ideas to get started (and to keep me thinking "out of the box" with options).

My hope is that these acts will become so second-nature to me, that I will end up striving to do them every day. Forever. And, ideally, without ever counting the cost. I know, big goal. But even if I just make it the 40 days doing little things ... that's a few minutes every day that I focused on helping someone else. It's not about me. Or my chocolate.