Lenten Love

Day four of Lent...which means day four without Facebook for me. This year's Lenten discipline will be an extra hard one, since as of late I have become nothing short of addicted to the online networking machine that is Facebook. And, as a result, you might be seeing more frequent posts on the blog, which has not been ruled out in the Lenten practice.

Seeing as I haven't been on Facebook, I have had to redirect my online attention to other areas...and thus have been getting caught up on the many blogs I love to read. The other night, I visited Rev Scott's blog and found myself tearing up over this post he wrote about my dad.

For those of you out there who have lost someone near and dear, I don't think I'm alone in this sentiment: it's so very nice to be reminded that you are not the only one who misses and remembers that person on a regular basis (especially long after everyone else seems to have forgotten them). I am eternally grateful that I always have my beloved siblings for comfort, but reading the posts or hearing the stories from other people my father impacted means the world to me. Grief changes as time passes, no doubt, but it still hits. And when it does, it hits hard. As Scott writes, my dad loved Lent, and intrinsically, Lent brings with it an annual wave of missing, darkness, and the loneliness that only grief can bring. How fitting it is, too, in a season that reminds us to draw in, reflect within the darkness, and acknowledge our own brokenness as human beings.

So, here's to Lent. And to February days with daylight that lingers just enough longer - reminding us that spring and new life are on the horizon, and to remain hopeful (and maybe even enjoy...) the call to examine ourselves in the darkness for just a bit in the meantime. Undoubtedly we will learn something in the process.