Courage

Lent is coming.

Lent is coming with all of its somber, relentless reminders that if we're going to walk this road, if we're really going to follow Christ, we've got to go to Calvary and die.

I don't like that. I've never liked that, and I'm not about to start. This woman's no masochist.

So, I pull up my big girl pants and do what the Gospel asks of me -- pick up the cross and follow. And now and again it gets way too heavy for me, and I drop it or fall on my face. Most of the time, it's both.

And then I run as far and as fast as I can, telling myself that I just need to get away from the burden of it for a little while until I can clear my head and get my courage back. If there's one thing I've needed in the last five years, it's courage. When I lose it, I crash. What you see instead is a pretty little brave face, but I've only been really good at faking it onstage. ;)

Okay, enough with the metaphors. I ran myself into the ground for the millionth time last week, after a month solid of ignoring it. Vice gets my mind off the fact that life is hard. It also gets me into a mess. That was fun in the confessional.

It's dealt with now and behind me. Redemption is still fresh in my soul. But...the cross is still sitting there, and I know it's time to get moving.

Yet all I can do is stand there and look at it. That's too bad, because in 24 hours I'll be "rending my heart" and starting the long journey to Easter.

Maybe somewhere along the way, I'll find my courage again.