I've been thinking a lot lately about getting a tattoo. Something to remind me about freedom and joy and presence....because you should see my house. Toys and blocks and books are scattered around the living room, clothes are tossed wherever little toddler hands drop them, dishes don't know if they are clean or dirty in the sink and dishwasher, and leftover juice in sippy cups and crushed popcorn on the floor tells a story of snack time. Sigh. And in so many ways I'm a perfectionist and NEED to keep my space neat and tidy....but living with two toddlers means that the majority of my day is then used up following behind them, tidying their messes and I become one frustrated mama who is constantly searching for a moment to catch my breath and free myself from aggravation. I need SOMETHING to remind me that God is in this mess.
I spent some time earlier last week chatting with my mama and she mentioned the phrase “let go”. Let go of those things that use you up, that you spend too much time giving too much power. Let go of your need for perfection. Ugh. I hated hearing that. Letting go is not easy for me because that means that I am relinquishing control, and that leaves me feeling vulnerable and powerless...and yet, I wonder what graces can begin to creep in at that point, when I've stopped distracting myself with things that don't really bring the freedom and joy I desire.
Following this weekend that is jammed packed with Valentine's Day and Mardi Gras, we will welcome the season of Lent. Lent can be a tricky time where we easily get lost in the process of letting go of STUFF, but I wonder what would happen if we re-framed our understanding a bit and let go of those things that, when left, make us feel vulnerable and therefore open us to those graces that truly transform a person. Maybe I will try to let go of my need for perfection, and instead use that energy to the know the joy of my little people and the messes we make together. Maybe this Lent I will get a tattoo...
Julie McCourt is the Campus Minister for CLC.
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