Wholehearted . . .
What does this word mean to you at the beginning of Lent?
Many of you know my husband’s latest cognitive test revealed impairment, and that he started medication for dementia. This week Dreamer enrolled in a rigorous, six-month health coaching program that will radically alter our way of living, starting with nutrition.
We’re in, wholeheartedly.
But many foods and beverages he loves must go—not just for Lent, but for life.
Our immersion feels like a sacred, slow-motion launch. Oh, may it culminate in better brain health! Dare I say, a measure of resurrection?
Spiritually and practically — for believers across Christendom — wholehearted surrender often means taking personal inventory.
Where have we been?
How are we doing now?
What does God want to initiate in the days ahead?
This week, around our world, Lent kicked off with three observances:
Clean Monday is an Eastern Orthodox practice, which includes spring cleaning and purging one’s kitchen of foods to be avoided, especially leaven.
Shrove Tuesday — in our case, featuring gluten-free pancakes—concerns confession, repentance, forgiveness.
Ash Wednesday invites us to ask: Lord, where have I missed the mark? We consider our mortality, acknowledge sin, pray for renewal.
Might these threefold responses suggest a gentle symmetry with Lent’s culmination: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter?
This may seem quirky, but a surprising commonality strikes me. During leaven-free Monday, Pancake Tuesday, and the Last Supper, spoons are involved.
To this day, these utensils for celebrating Passover are cleansed, then koshered by boiling them in water. In ancient times, on Passover Eve, women laboriously swept their homes clean of every trace of leaven with a feather, a wooden spoon as receptacle, and a bag to dispose of all.
The Hebrew word for spoon is kap. But it is also variously translated throughout the Bible.
It refers to the ancient, angelic fire-spoon holding the live coal, touched to Isaiah’s lips: a means of purification.
Kap also denotes the twelve golden spoons for burning incense in the tabernacle: a means of worship.
Yet another translation refers to that which humanly cups and holds: literally, “the palm of the hand”: a means of receiving, as well as serving.
Picture God’s hands, pierced for us. The prophet Isaiah reminds us our names are engraved on the palms of our Savior.
Talk about wholehearted surrender!
Perhaps you have a favorite spoon. You might want to picture it now as you continue to read, or hold it in your hand. What is it made of?
Consider the shape, and weight, the warmth or coolness, color(s), decoration, and texture.
Does it feel well-balanced?
Is there a scent?
Do you see tarnish, patina, scratches, shine?
How much can your spoon hold?
Using the spoon as a sacred launch point, here are a few personal inventory questions you might consider.
What feels mixed up in my life?
What do I crave?
Which fruit of the Spirit is God nudging me to savor?
What is being stirred up in me?
How might I serve others in this season?
Whom, specifically, does God hope I will nourish?
What new recipe might Jesus invite me to wholeheartedly create with him?
Friends, for the rest of this day, what if you turn every encounter with a spoon into a spontaneous prayer?
And if you prefer a written one, you might try this:
Beloved Lord, conform us to your image.
In your mercy, cull from our lives
what harms and disrupts our responsiveness.
Teach us to serve you well.
May we hunger for your presence,
thirst for your Word.
Deliver us from anemic faith,
indifference, and discouragement.
Forgive our greed,
our conditional hospitality,
our need to control others.
Draw us into humility,
patience, and wholehearted living. Amen.
כַּף, Hebrew, kap
kPhoto by Lex Sirikiat on Unsplash
Photo by Burkard Meyendriesch on Unsplash
Was singing then researching I Love You Lord when I found this site.
Bless you & Thank you for your artistic faith expressions!
When I learned “workmanship” (poiema) in Ephesians 2:10 is where our word poem is derived I was thrilled. We are God’s poems!
Nikki, how kind of you to reach out, thank you!
And poiema: a marvelous translation, and application, indeed.
Oh dear Laurie…. just now reading this on Good Friday. What a remarkable reflection–your ability to search for and see God in the midst of such labors inspires me.
I can’t help thinking of a poem I wrote re: this Easter Weekend…involving some stirring and a spoon: (maybe you’ve read it?)
Recipe for Awakening
Stir together singular, disparate syllables.
Salt tears. Dry yeast.
Mix with water (no blood yet)
but sweat.
And all those tears.
Beat, not with a spoon—
convex form no match for the fear held in its hand—
but carefully stir the sifted self, Savior, kneaded
on a board until the dough pulls away.
Cover loosely with cloth,
place in a battered space
until deliverance is complete.
Let rise.
Form into one life, resurrected.
Oh, Jody, thank you for sending a poem! Love the reminder that the stirring of the Spirit outmatches fear.
Happy Easter, friend. May our “sifted” selves rise!!!
Amen❣️
Laurie, thank you for sharing these thoughts with us. I’m so sorry you guys are going through this. And I’m sorry the path forward includes giving up some favorite foods for life. I know this is no small sacrifice. But I’m inspired by your approach, and I hope for gains and new discoveries of dishes that delight you both.
I’m considering your questions, particularly, “What feels mixed up in my life? [Or maybe, what doesn’t feel mixed up?] What do I crave? Which fruit of the Spirit is God nudging me to savor?”
Praying along with you. <3
Bethany, thanks for your compassion and caring. I am finding tasty recipes . . .
Thanks for letting me know the questions that piqued your interest. I realized “peace” is the fruit on offer and am trying to embrace it more often!
We are so grateful for your prayers! Thank you!
Love this prayer and your meditation. Thank you. ❤️
Sandi, you are so welcome! I hope it extends in ways that delight and strengthen you in the days ahead, a blessing with long, long arms . . .
<3
Okay.
My relationship with spoons just changed.
Wait a minute.
I never had a relationship with spoons.
Thank you.
I do now.
For the next 37 days anyway.
And yes, dare you say!
Tick, thanks for the grin now washing over my face. I love your sense of humor.
And, for encouraging us to “dare” . . .
This song from 1980 has met me on day four of lent…
https://youtu.be/vnW4zlh1Wy4?si=LDiQRrTFW81c6L2Y
Oh my. I just pulled up the lyrics, listened to the recording three times. How did I never hear this back in the day?
It speaks, still.
I needed this today. It speaks to everything.
And for me, it especially speaks to the dementia odyssey.
Saving this to my desktop . . .
Thank you.
?❤️??
Read and thoroughly enjoyed. Thank you for sharing your heart, the living word, and your insights.
Praying for your family. Loving you always, dear forever friend.
Gena, thank you for being alongside all these many decades. Forever friends, indeed!
I pray that the medication, an altered diet, and other steps will curb the onslaught of dementia for Dreamer. As always, your faith keeps you on an even keel, your spiritual eyes keep you discovering insights–even as challenges ensue. Thank you for teaching us about spoons today! Those questions you ask and that prayer at the end are worthy of meditation, Laurie. I printed them out for my quiet time notebook, to do just that!
Nancy, thank you so much for your prayers and for your faithful, always loving presence here. What a good image you’ve shared! I must remember faith as a “keel” in the moments that threaten to swamp our small vessel. And perhaps “sea eagle” eyes when I feel awash in spates of heavy weather. I hope the questions prove fruitful as you spend time with them.
?
And what came singing into my head but Mary Poppins and her spoonful of sugar. Well. I tried to shove it aside but I kept coming back to the way certain teas have sweetness without sugar. I am ever taken with how the Lord provides a “spoonful of sugar “ in bitter tea I must drink when there seems to be no spoon, no sugar…how the smallest amount changes everything.
What a beautiful reminder to look for the hidden sweetness in unexpected places, thank you. So encouraging, too, amid the scaling back of sugar. I feel newly inspired!