Looking for my rose-colored lenses.
Today is the day. Today was Ash Wednesday. And, now is a very acceptable hour. Now is the time to locate my rose-colored lenses.
Let me explain, because I would only need to locate my rose-colored lenses if I’d lost them. And in a sense, I did. Not literally, but technically. You know when everything you see in the world, no matter how challenging or irksome, is tinged with blush tones and optimism? Not the beyond-naïve-optimism that (à mon avis) perpetually suspends disbelief and arrests right judgment, but the hopeful positivity that nourishes faith and inspires an appetite for life. That kind of rosy outlook is what I’m on a quest to relocate. My glasses are currently defogging from a whirlwind start of the year.
The past two months for me have included traveling, staying put; dating, and then not; interviewing, waiting; freelancing, trying to write; darting around in heels, but mainly flats; reading, and Skype’ing, lots; hitting the gym, then savoring dessert; listening to Taylor, Adele, and Coldplay on repeat, teaching myself to play the guitar; and (barely, but very gratefully) getting by with a little help from my friends, parents, sispooh, and Bru.
Because I’ve learned that when you lose something you can’t replace, you do feel stuck in reverse. If sometimes it lasts, sometimes it does hurt instead. And if this really were a movie, then today might still be a fairytale, but as it turns out turning tables is more my current reality. Still: lights will guide you home. Truth: people throw rocks at things that shine, and life makes love look hard. But also true: if you never try you’ll never know just what you’re worth.
Hence, I can’t afford for my specs to defog an inky, grey hue as I move forward and (cross your fingers!) join the big girl working world and try to repair the scars I’ve acquired along the way. Which is why today is the day. Ash Wednesday signifies more than just the start of the Lenten season—it reminds us that as humans we are mere mortals, but so much more. From ashes we came, and to ashes we will return; but during our lives we learn that if we return to the Cross with a humble spirit and a contrite heart, His mercy and grace will revive us. I need that kind of renewed courage, conviction, and clarity.
For whenever you show yourself ready, the hard will be directly transformed into the beautiful (Etty Hillesum). And a heart that is anxious about the future closes itself to the present grace. So, for Lent, my project (for lack of a better term) is to locate my rose-colored lenses, and return to a state of sincerely gracious, willful and happy acceptance.
