Lent and the Lake

Mira here. The best indicator of the weather for us here on Eastlake Terrace is often not the sky, but the lake. Over the past two weeks, the lake has changed dramatically. With the mild temperatures we had for so long, the lake water was deep blue and clear for much of January. When the snows and winds arrived about two weeks ago (see pics from a couple of posts back), the lake roared for a bit, then slowed as it became lumpy and then solid--ice!. Then suddenly, this past week, it was almost 40 degrees and the water reappeared, but the strong wind sent the waves crashing onto the shore with so much force that we could hear them from inside our apartment. And today, there was another shift. Drizzly snow this morning gave way to freezing rain, which caused the still lake's color to be covered over again with a layer of slushy ice. After church, the lake had become downright chunky, and now, the rain drops have become huge fake-theater-snow and the shoreline is not quite decipherable from our apartment window. The blue-white of the shore fades into a muted teal color where the water begins.

It feels like Lent. A bit dreary...moods and circumstances changing, sometimes by the hour...the desire to curl up in a blanket with a cup of tea (maybe a bowl of cereal in my case) on the couch and light a candle or read or hide. I so appreciated the sermon that Michelle, a member of our church and guest preacher today, gave this morning. It was a "pro-Lent" message. She shared about Lent, this 40-day preparation period before Easter (of which today is the first Sunday), being a time of grief--of examining our lives, of taking note of where we have wandered off-course in relationships and in our spiritual lives, of acknowledging all that is broken in the world, of seeking to know where we are being led. But the "pro" part of the message is that we need these seasons of grief so that we can fully experience the joy of renewal...it is not healthy to push away the grief, but we must walk through it. And even though we often feel very alone when we are grieving or confused or completely lost, we are not alone. Walking together in community is our constant reminder of this.

This Lent, Eric and I will be co-leading one of four small groups that will meet on Wednesday nights to share in some good Lenten reflection. There will be a community meal, then groups will meet for a bit of conversation, and we will end with a short candlelight service. We are both really excited to get to know some new people in a deeper way and share a bit of the small-group experience that impacted us so much in the fall. This will be another chance to walk with one another.

Michelle said that Lent is a season that she "gets." It seems more real. I can relate to that. I can relate more to the reality of wandering, of desiring simplicity and closeness in relationships, of grieving, than I can to a season of, say, expecting a baby (like in Advent). How great that this is a time that it's not only OK, but encouraging to admit when we feel lost and afraid (heck, I'm sure Jesus felt that way after wandering in the desert for forty days!). And to admit that we need guidance and comfort. And to occasionally find glimpses and moments of that guidance and comfort.

So...even though at the moment I feel a bit like curling up and watching the flakes safely from our toasty apartment, I think I will head back out into the snow and make my way to the coffee shop where the church's women's group is meeting this evening. And maybe I will make a stop at the beach to see up close how the water is changing.


P.S. In case you are interested in reading more about Lent or finding some reflection materials, this is a good page to visit. It's from the United Methodist Church website. I especially like the Upper Room devotions and the article "Lent 101."