Taking it in

This time of the year is incredibly, inescapably busy in the university context, which is one reason I am sympathetic to pastoral ministers, who are even busier during Lent than I am. Because of the busyness, I had some difficulty deciding on a Lenten practice this year. Whenever I think of a fast, I think of the challenge of adding one more constraint to my professional and personal life; when I think of adding a practice, I think what I most need to add to my practice is sharing it with others (“but I don’t have time,” cries the internal monitor!). What I really want is a little simplicity, simplicity both of schedule and of heart. I am inspired, this Lent, by an accidental coincidence of two metaphors in English: taking something in, meaning a mindful appreciation of my experience, and taking in a garment, meaning to make it a little smaller, but on the same structure.

Dress shirt being prepared for tailoring, text reads, "Lay flat and pin in place."
I rather wish I could make this my slogan for Lent. Image from SheKnows.com (click for original).

 

I am one of those people for whom one of the spiritual dangers of Lent (and every time) is to try to make impossible changes for the wrong reasons. I try to โ€œbe betterโ€ on my own, rather than taking every step with the understanding that the ground I walk on is made holy by Godโ€™s own Spirit. I find this especially tempting because the world around me is full of information broadcasted about how I can (and should) do and be better (and the products I can buy to make it happen).

Taking my experiences in reminds me that God is already offering the life of grace to me at every turn, and all I need to do is turn to see it. Taking my life in reminds me that of all the things I overindulge in, the worst is busyness. Taking it in reminds me to make a little space for the holy every day. From that flows my love for God and for others.

If, like me, you feel the need to โ€œtake it inโ€ this Lent, here are a few simple practices:

 

  1. Take it in at every step. Quite literally, engage in mindful walking. Be attentive to the world around you and its origin in the creative Word.
  2. Take in your diet. Of course, you can go with traditional abstinence from sweets, alcohol, meat, or other indulgences. But donโ€™t do it for your health; do it to make space in your mind for that awareness of God that comes every time you miss the thing you abstained from and are reminded of why you did it.
  3. Take in your schedule. Make room for 10 minutes of quiet peacefulness in every day.
  4. Take in their stories. Practice empathy for those in your family or your daily companions.
  5. Take people into your daily meals and prayers. Practice simple hospitality by allowing some people to see you โ€œas you are.โ€ My children want to invite people we normally donโ€™t share meals with (โ€œtoo busy!โ€) to eat and pray with us once a week.

 

Kimberly Hope Belcher

Kimberly Belcher received her Ph.D. in Liturgical Studies at Notre Dame in 2009. After teaching at St John's University in Collegeville, Minnesota, she returned to Notre Dame as a faculty member in 2013. Her research interests include sacramental theology (historical and contemporary), trinitarian theology, and ritual studies. Her interest in the church tradition is challenged, deepened, and inspired by her three children.

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Comments

2 responses to “Taking it in”

  1. Katharine E. Harmon

    Kimberly, thanks for this reflection. I also struggled this year with what to “give up,” “take up,” or “do.” It was pointed out to me (by my husband), that I didn’t need to “do” anything–immersing myself in busyness is precisely my problem! My challenge this Lent will be to consciously “do nothing”–to take that few minutes of intentional peacefulness and quiet. I think that “taking in my schedule” will be difficult, but perhaps I’ll succeed if I can pin myself in place.

  2. Late though I am to this, Kimberly, I am deeply grateful. What a beautiful reflection! Your words about wanting to be better “on my own” lodge uncomfortably in my very willful heart. Thank you for the push to redirection that, God willing, we all shift into.


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