A lovely, lovely, lovely day. If you look carefully, you can see the red camellias blooming. It's hard to get a good photo of that tree in bloom --- somehow no image ever comes close to the reality, which is pretty glorious.
My husband has said that he's coming home early tonight after all, so we'll go out and have our Mardi Gras either at the pub or in the wine bar, depending on who has food. It'll be fun to kick up our heels one last time, though on the other hand, there's nothing, but NOTHING better than Saturday nights in Lent, when the sun has gone down, it's liturgically Sunday, and you can relax your penances a little, let your hair hang down.
I read somewhere, yesterday, some evangelical on social media giving people permission "not to practice Lent," as though Lent were a form of spiritual abuse that people need to cast off as they would cast off the yoke of slavery. And I --- well, what I did not do was engage on social media. But I did think about that all day.
One thing I thought was that if you are in a church context where things are completely voluntary and optional, just Christian lifestyle choices, then yes, Lent could be a big old drag. One of the things that makes it not just a burden you put on is that, if you're Catholic, the entire Church is doing it, and you are carried along with it, regardless of what private penances you do or don't do. Your faith isn't a private matter, but a corporate one. You are part, in fact, of the Body of Christ, and what the Body of Christ will be doing, together, for the next forty days, is fasting, prayer, and almsgiving. There will be purple. There will be no alleluia. You can't escape the fact that you are in a season set apart.
Now, what you do or don't do during Lent as your own private spiritual practice is up to you, and should be precisely that: your own private practice. But you can do nothing much and still be practicing Lent, as a function of being part of the Body of Christ which is doing that right now. My husband and I were laughing last night, because technically, at 61, he's dispensed from all the fasting and abstinence, poor frail little old man. I mean, he lifts weights regularly and is solid muscle and has never been so healthy in his life, but . . . whatever. He's going to ignore that dispensation, but even if he didn't, he would not be participating in Lent any less. One day we'll be really old, God willing, and yes, for our health, we'll probably claim that dispensation---but it'll still be Lent, and we'll still be in it, and travel with the whole Church through it, and be transformed somehow by it. I'll still put a purple cloth on the table, as long as I have my wits about me, and if that's all I do, it will still be part of my preparation for the long, good Easter of eternity.
So anyway, I guess that whole way of thinking about Lent, as a kind of burdensome add-on, struck me as strange. But it would be burdensome if it were a thing you were doing all by yourself, while everyone else is having fun. The culture isn't going to sustain you in these practices, and if your church culture hasn't set itself apart in some way from the rest of the culture --- and to my mind, ordering time is a lot more effective way to set yourself apart than to impose dress codes or sell inspirational signs for people to hang in their kitchens --- then it seems to me that you won't find much real sustenance there, either, if what you want is to be, while in the world, not of it.
That's the gift of liturgical time, the whole calendar that moves you into a larger reality, ordered by the mysteries of the Trinity and by God's saving acts in history. You can be ascetical or not. You can be strikingly, visibly counter-cultural, or you can look like everybody else . . . as angels have often looked like just anybody, in their movement through the world, and been entertained by unwitting mortals. But whatever you do, however you present yourself in the world, you are living by another calendar, another whole understanding of time that is constantly telling its story and renewing itself in the telling. Lent brings this home to me in a way that almost nothing else does (well, Advent).
Anyway. Today is Mardi Gras. The sun is shining. It's going to be 70F. I have this new pair of Birkenstocks to walk in. I'm going to wear something fun and not remotely purple, and I'm going to look forward to a date night, because after years of in-home Mardi Gras celebrations with children, we can do stuff like this. (read: We do not have to purchase or make, and then consume, a King Cake. We have done that. Nobody can make us do it again).
Wearing today:
Gosh, I love this linen skirt. It was one of my January Poshmark purchases, and I'm glad I went for it. The line is perfect. The length is perfect. The shade of red is perfect. I feel graceful and flowy wearing it.
My Wool& Camellia works perfectly with the skirt, as both a top and a slip. I can see wearing this exact outfit through the summer, minus the cashmere cardigan, which I'm probably not going to need. The Camellia is such a versatile dress this way: great on her own, great with layers, fine and silky enough to fit under a skirt without bulk. She'd be my pick as a base layer under any other kind of dress --- I do keep thinking it would be fun to pick up a loose linen dress that I could wear over this one, though that's hardly a priority right now. Still, I could see that as a workable combination even in the heat of the summer. But then that's how I see this outfit I'm wearing today. I'm glad to have a long enough skirt to cover my very pale legs and not look as though I'm rushing said summer. It is still February. Here I'm both warm enough and cool enough, covered enough but not too covered for comfort.
And I can wear my new-to-me Birks.
I can also wear the beaded ankle bracelet my little arty daughter made me some years ago:
You can barely see it there, but I'm wearing it. I have learned, via the same daughter, that if the elastic is starting to sag, I can just put my ankle bracelet in hot water, and it will draw up again. So there's your handy tip for the day, in case your ankle bracelets are getting saggy from wear.
Time to walk the dog in the sunshine, then get to work.
UPDATE:
My other Ebay buy came. You can see why I did it.
a. They are so utterly cute.
b. Yes, they're purple. And what season is about to be upon us?
They have a few stains, which is why I got them as cheaply as I did, but you can see what great shape they're in. I have treated the stains (not entirely successfully, but I hope they'll be a little lighter) and also treated them with water- and stainproofing from my leather-and-suede care kit. I've treated my Tari boots as well, after cleaning them thoroughly yesterday. I figure that spots and stains and distressing are like dings on the car: get them over with, so you won't worry about the perfect surface, but don't go out of your way to collect more, either.
Anyway, ONCE AGAIN I am singing the no-regrets song about making purchases in what I had decreed to be a no-buy zone, which leads me to wonder why I make those decrees to begin with. But no regrets. It's probably not entirely in a Lenten spirit that I anticipate wearing my new purple Birks to Mass tomorrow. Like I'm not being convincingly monastic here. But oh well. It's not like I was ever going to be a monk to begin with. Might as well wear the purple shoes and be grateful for them.