All Glory, Laud & Honor

Yesterday was Palm Sunday, which marks the beginning of Holy Week. I am an Episcopalian, which in Robin Williams words is "Catholic Lite" (all the ceremony, half the guilt). Holy Week is something that we do up really well. There are thurifers and lots of incense and amazing vestments...the choir seems to step it up a notch this week too with the triumph of Easter coming soon.
I will admit that I did not keep a very good Lent this year. I was very out of sorts with my spiritual discipline, and was extremely hit or miss with all that I wanted to do. Now we're in Jerusalem, heading towards the cross.
I did not go to the Lenten program, although I really wanted to. I did not attend the quiet day. I did not go to Stations of the Cross.
Wednesday night I have to stop by the youth group to talk to them about fundraising for the Italian dinner. Thursday is Maundy Thursday and there's a solemnity about that service, remembering the Last Supper. I get chills from the stripping of the altar.
My church in Princeton did a Good Friday service called the 7 Last Words of Christ. That was a chill inducing service, all three hours of it. Here, its a regular liturgy at both noon & 7. I also love the ceremony of the Easter Vigil, moving from darkness of the tomb to the light of the resurrection.
It is Monday of Holy Week, and its very early in the morning. I have had poor sleep for the last several days due to my allergies. I actually broke down and took a sudafed last night because the post nasal drip was just too much to bear. Then when I finally fell back to sleep, around 4 ish, the puppy dog started barking like crazy. I fly out of bed (Big Man is already at work) to see what's going on. There was some sort of woodland critter sitting on the front stoop (not sure if it was a bunny or not). So, I get the puppy dog settled down and go back to bed, only for the alarm to go off about 45 minutes later. The little man wanted to get up to play with his toys before school. He's in the kitchen, I am in the family room and I think I need to get downstairs on the treadmill soon. I need to be consistent with it more than anything else.
I did do my yoga daily dozen for the first time in 3 days. Its amazing how stiff I can get that quickly. I need to get my body stretched out every day to keep healthy and relatively pain free. I don't want to let achiness and fatness take over for me. Its really easy to do nothing, and just stay on the couch and not do anything. Its really easy to eat junk food and crap, but its not going to help me to be my best. Do I want my little man to not eat healthy or be a couch potato? So why would I want to be like that? Its hard to erase the past 25 or so years of living and start over. I've had moments where I really took care of myself (going to the gym daily, eating healthy, etc) but then there were long stretches of not taking care of me.
The main reason I think that the pendulum swings like that is the fact that there's a little bit of guilt tied in. Guilt over making myself a priority (which is a pretty sad way of thinking)because somewhere in my mental wiring, there is a definate martyr syndrome lurking. Look at me, look how hard my life is, whine whine whine. I actually have it pretty easy. I have a great kid who is extremely smart and cute. My husband helps around the house more than he needs to. My dog is just overly loveable. I live in a really nice house, I have a great job, I drive a nice car and wear nice clothes. We have more than enough to eat. We have been blessed with good health. My husband has a great job. He drives a nice truck. My son has more than enough toys and books. We lead a pretty great life. So...where do I get off whining? I am tired of taking myself for granted because I feel I don't "deserve" to take care of me. The fact that I feel I have to "earn" the right to look good and eat healthy and exercise? That is just insane! But its this little nagging thought that I have-that I need to earn the right to be the best I can be.
I think that the martyr thing must be genetic, because my grandmother was the ultimate martyr. Despite being blessed with so much abundance, nothing was ever good enough and things were always so tough. She also carried grudges and harbored resentment towards a lot of people and things. And she was an organized hoarder. Talk about setting me up for a lot of complexes! My grandmother also perfected the art of the backhanded compliment, which I think is the reason why I am always waiting for the "but" whenever I receive praise. There was always a but with her, but despite all her faults I loved her an incredible deal and her death does leave a void in my life. I think she'd really enjoy the little man, and my life now.
So, abandoning my martyr complex, I need to get my butt off the couch and onto the treadmill and get the blood pumping this morning.