All eyes are upon me. The room is silent. I begin. “Take out a sheet of paper, open your blue, hardcover books, and turn to page 105.” I pause so that my students can carry out the task and I write “text pg. 105” on the board, fully cognizant that I will have to repeat myself at least three more times.
Diego is staring out the window, as usual. Maria’s grandmother, the woman who has been raising her for the past five years as her parents worked multiple jobs to pay the bills, died of cancer last
night. Tamika is still fumbling for last night’s homework. Like a ventriloquist act, the second I opened my mouth, Raul began talking so that he could finish the conversation that he and Andre were having before the bell rang. Ibrahim doesn’t have anything to write with, so he has just asked five students around him for a pen, and Jazlyn who sits behind him can’t hear because he is so disruptive. Marco can’t concentrate on anything; his mind races with apprehension over what he will be asked to do by his fellow gang members tonight. Tyrell is reviewing for his AP Geography test next period, and Ana
wonders whether she’ll be able to time things just right so that she can bump into that cute new boy in
the hall when class is over.
“Which book?”
“What page?”
I pause. Sigh. And begin again…
When my alarm went off on Ash Wednesday this year, two thoughts popped into my head.
“Is it really time to get up?” was quickly superseded by
“Ugh. It’s Ash Wednesday. Lent…” Yet a little over an hour later, as I pulled out of my driveway with a Michael W. Smith CD from my college days playing, my mood was decidedly different. To say I was giddy would not be entirely wrong.
What changed?
I remembered why Lent. Sure, I’ve had years were I hated the sacrifice and simplicity of Lent, years when
I’ve misinterpreted it and used it as an excuse to wallow in my own life troubles, and years when its
slipped by me without much notice. Yet I know that in each of those cases, I’ve missed the point.
Like my students, I have great difficulty focusing on what is important. My life is so busy, and
many things compete for my attention, some petty and some very deep. Yet all of them have the
potential to distract me from my true purpose—to grow closer to God each day. Lent is an excuse to
move those distractions to the back burner and spend some time each day doing something that will
deepen my relationship with the One who really matters.
Over the past year, I’ve been blessed to have several moments where I really, truly felt as if God
were speaking to me. But I know that I haven’t heard the whole message yet, and recently, preoccupied
with “life,” those experiences have decreased in both intensity and frequency. I fear that I am entering
a desert period in my spiritual life. I know that God hasn’t stopped trying to share his message with
me; like my students, I have stopped hearing.
As I got ready for work on Ash Wednesday, it occurred to me that Lent is my opportunity to try to clean out my ears, sharpen my focus, and open my heart. That evening at mass, the pastor of our church began his homily by sharing that “Lent” means “Spring.” It is a time for renewal and rebirth, a period of change and preparation that hints at the splendor of all that is to come.
I can’t think of a better reason to be giddy.
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