My Lenten Sacrifice

This year I didn't really officially decide on something to give up for Lent. At the beginning, I was grossly pregnant. Then I was recovering and crying through feedings. Now, at the end, I'm just starting to work out a routine with these two hooligans.
It seems like the past few years, what I've really given up is my steady confidence in my faith. Right around the middle of Lent, I always start to question the sacrifices, the history and stories. I start to feel like the story of Easter seems so drawn-out and "big" that it almost feels fabricated to me after awhile. I always start to think, "How on Earth do we know what was said? How do we know all of this so many, many years later?"
And then Holy Week starts to come to a close and Good Friday happens. In our family, we've always spent it together, quietly. We'd take the day off from school or work and just be together as a family and try to keep the day quiet and thoughtful. By Saturday I'm on an even keel and feeling very peaceful. On Sunday, when I walk into Church and smell the lilies and hear the trumpets, my heart tells me that whatever the history, whatever my doubts, God is present in that space and in my soul. The story of Easter is big. I suppose it's unbelievable in the same way that people have trouble believing in true love, since it's ultimately the story of true love anyway, isn't it? Maybe that's what it is for me. We live in a world so unwilling to sacrifice for others that the Easter Story becomes a little more surreal each time you hear it. But if the story of the Passion is the story of passionate love, Easter is the 50-year-anniversary celebration.
Today I'm gearing up for Holy Week with my family and a quiet Easter in the mountains. I'm so excited about Lucy starting to understand holidays. We went to Lowes over the weekend and we smelled the lilies and I think she agrees that lilies mean Easter in our house! I can't wait for Sunday!
This week and talk of sacrifices reminds me of my mom telling me that being a wife and mother is celebrating the Works of Mercy every day. Even on the days when I feel like I haven't given enough of myself, I think back to her telling me that a mother cares for the sick, feeds the hungry and admonishes the sinner every day of her child's life, and that gives me hope that maybe I am making a difference somehow.

And in the spirit of prayer and in sympathy for just how difficult toddlerhood really is, Lucy's Beatitudes.

Blessed are the poor in spirit who just don't understand why Mommy has to insist on civilized behavior, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are they who mourn the loss of pacifiers, cookies and hiding places, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek who just can't say "please" in front of strangers, for they shall inherit the Earth.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for justice (and more M&M's), for they shall be be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful who leave the legs on their toys and their Play-Doh in the kitchen, for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure of heart who know just when to offer a spontaneous kiss to a frazzled Mommy, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers who know how to bring laughter to the third round of Mommy and Daddy's disagreements, for they shall be called children of God.
Blessed are they who suffer persecution for justice sake at hands of their terribly mean parents, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.