restraint and freedom

Meet our sink. Two stainless steel bowls in a stainless steel bench. Possibly circa 1960. The bowls are wide and deep, and they do a great job. I can't remember if I've told you but this house used to be a camp, and this kitchen is totally a camp kitchen. I love it.

This is the third week I've been washing the dishes by hand, with help. I'm saying it's for Lent, but I kind of like it. I can't even remember exactly what I was thinking when I decided to abandon the dishwasher, but abandon it I did. The girls have been taking turns washing and drying when they can, and even on the days when I've faced a mountain of dishes, I haven't been tempted to use the dishwasher. Some how washing the dishes has become meditative for me. A slowing down.

Lent is not lying low around here at all. Since I decided to give up sugar, Paddy has followed suit. It's the closest thing to a family revolution we've had since he came home from his last ever overnight shift. I can feel in my bones that this is going to be good for us. It's been a week for me with no sugar, and as the days go on I feel better and better. I've got more energy, I'm feeling healthier, and I'm more in control of what I eat. The cravings are gone. I own my body and I'm over the moon about it.

I've had a feeling for a week or so that one of our Lenten sacrifices will be renewed post Lent. I'm kind of curious to see which it is. I've got options to choose from. And that's not to say I'm some kind of Lent perfectionist. Not at all. I'm a novice when it comes to following the church calendar. But this year Lent has completely taken me by surprise by offering so much opportunity for growth. Growth I just couldn't pass up on.

At the beginning of Lent I wrote about our new rhythm and the un-learning that I knew was in store for me. At that stage the only thing I had decided to give up was complaining. I may seem like a nice person, but over nearly eleven years of marriage I had developed a very unattractive habit. I understand where it had come from. Disappointment, a mixture of unmet and unspoken expectations, and the idea that grew along the way that I am some how hard done by. Complaining was my right. One of the few ways I really let it all hang out. To the one I love. It was the first shadow I faced.

The moment in darkness was uncomfortable, embarrassing even, but it was short. Like a quick cut with a sharp knife. At first I had to bite my tongue, then there were moments where I covered my mouth with my hand and turned away, and then it became as simple as a smile. A wry smile at the words I knew I couldn't say. Paddy and I know how to fight, and that's not all bad, but as Lent went on it was like we had no energy, no need to be combatant. There was restraint when before there was none.

Restraint has been the word that has resonated with me this Lent. Restraint with words, restraint with foods, restraint with media. Restraint is not a popular concept. We are conditioned by every thing around us to want more, to need more, and to shout it to the rooftops. We are owed. We have rights! We must be heard! But restraint goes against all of that. Restraint says what you have is enough.

I've been honest here at times about this marriage of mine. One day I'll tell you the whole story, and I can assure you, it will be good. I have looked at the end of it with such petrifying clarity it was like looking down the barrel of a gun. I know how things could have gone. As you can imagine, I've developed some strong opinions about marriage along the way. I'm not an advocate of just keeping quiet and "putting up" with average-ness. I believe we should have high expectations of how we are treated and how we treat each other.

And yet in restraint there is a holding back. At the right time, and not if there is abuse involved, but at the right time, restraint is stepping back rather than stepping forward. It is keeping quiet rather than letting words fly like volleys. It is stillness rather than aggression. It is patience, it is peace. It is trusting that I have the resilience within me to resolve the conflict within myself, regardless of the outcome. It is being able to let it go. It is saying to myself what I have is enough.


I'm sitting here writing to you as a person who has less than they had three weeks ago. I've given up a language, the vernacular of complaint. I've given up my favourite category of food. I've given up the labour-saving device I used most often. I'm gluten, dairy, fat and salycilate intolerant, and now I don't eat sugar either. Does that sound unnatural? Insanely restrictive? I promise you, it's my freedom.