Maybe this time, maybe now.

On Giving It Up for Lent.

h/t to The Social Dept who I think once made a much cooler, less Canva-ish version of this

My morning routine usually involves taking kids to school. This year, it’s either one boy to his high school, or more often, two boys to their elementary school. Last year at this time, it was more predictable: taking three boys to the same school, day after day after day.

And sadly, this routine was often the roughest part of the day.

Let’s just say many rides to school featured some spicy back and forth after the morning rush of getting everyone’s needs met while also hearing about - and promptly reality checking - everybody’s wants. Usually this familiar early-morning big family drama reached its peak during the actual ride to school for one reason or another and was nourished by this really prominent family trait I carry (and have generously passed down) of really loving to have The Last Word. On a good day, we might agree early in the seven minute trip that everyone just not talking was the best solution to making the ride more tolerable. Only cold looks and steely jaws allowed. Maybe some audible sighs.

Some days, I’d break that silence with a passive-aggressive prayer. You know the one: “Thanks, God for this beautiful day and the ability to try again. Please help us to be patient and understanding and generous and caring. Help us to stop being entitled jerks all the time and remind us that we are here to love and care for each other even when it’s really, really, really, really, really hard to do that.”

You know, basically the mom version of Psalm 35.

I tried all the things I could do to make it better. Go to sleep earlier. Don’t look at the phone right after waking up. Try to start the day with positive energy. Look for the good and proactively point it out. State the expectation plainly. Search for another podcast - Dr. Lisa and Dr. Becky to the rescue.

After blow ups, I’d apologize and make try to make things right, just owning my part and not adding a lecture at the end of the apology (truth told, I’m still trying to master that skill - remember, The Last Word is a strong genetic feature).

I’d wake up and try again the next day. But those contentious, awful rides to school happened far more often than I would like to admit.

We were stuck. I worried it would never change. And some days, I’d really believe that it wouldn’t change and that only made it all worse.

And my “fix-it” part would ramp up and try something new. Maybe more Vitamin D will fix it. Or B complex - that should do it! French Jazz Cafe radio? Let’s give it a whirl!

Today, a year later, I was driving home from dropping the two boys at school and laughing to myself about the running joke we were telling on the way to school - taking turns talking for the dog, who looked really upset at being taken from her warm, cozy bed into the nippy March morning air. I smiled to myself (and the dog, who still looked like she was holding a grudge).

I remembered that the once middle-schooler now high schooler spontaneously thanked me last night for something we got him that he really appreciated. And how he owned a mistake he made earlier that morning without getting defensive. And emptied the dishwasher without being asked yesterday.

And it washed over me: Dear God, something shifted for us. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I’m not sure when or how or why, but it did. Rides to school have pretty much been pleasant all year long. Ok, occasional bumps in the road, but I don’t remember asking God to smite my children in any single morning prayer this year. Not bad.

Sitting at that red light, smiling and feeling grateful about the place we are in now, I kid you not, across the intersection was woman, face was tight with fury, eyes narrowed, mouth wide as she shouted - presumably at her kid who stared blankly in the opposite direction.

Oh, my heart.

I’ve been that mom. Not so long ago. Probably will have times like that again, as I manage life with another teenager rising and my own estrogen waning.

When the light turned green and I passed this raging mom, I said a quiet blessing of grace for her and her family. And I asked myself: what would my this-year-self share with my last-year-self that might have helped her through that tough season?

This too shall pass so just stop trying so hard.

There are some things you cannot fix or solve or conquer.

Teenager attitude might be is totally one of them. Your need to have The Last Word might be is absolutely another one. But can you believe that all of it can and will change, eventually? Can you notice the urge to fix, solve, try harder and just Stop. Trying. So. Hard?

Let go. Let go. Let go. And then let go some more.

And isn’t this the magic that we are invited into during this season of Lent?

To pay attention to what we can’t quite change on our own, to hold it in our clenched fists, and then be willing to open those fists up and let That-Which-We-Cannot-Fix go, and stay, for whatever amount of time we can… with our palms open, facing upward.

And eventually, when we feel more relaxed, to be able to ask: as I let go of this, who am I freed up to be?

Or another way: as I accept this reality, how I am more able to be who I am meant to be or who I hope to be?

Belief that the really really hard stuff can change - like The Last Word gene in me - requires some surrender.

So, let’s say it together: Give it up for Lent!

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