I Burned My Finger for Lent

Tonight at church we had a thing where you write down something you want to repent of, something you want to leave behind for Lent, and then burn it, thus symbolically leaving [whatever] behind you.

So I did that. What I burned was a paragraph long, and I’m not sure I actually wrote the thing down itself that I would like to repent of, but by the time I’d filled up an index card with small writing, I thought I had at least an emotional grip on what I was talking about, even if I couldn’t explain it in a sentence.

I think the idea was approximately that I wanted to repent of... fear and aloneness. But I don’t always have control over the times I feel fearful and alone, and so there was a wish, a prayer, at least a desire, to be forgiven and rid of pride that requires me to tough through fearfulness alone when I could get help.

I don’t know... because frequently, I would be happy to be helped during those times, if someone really were helping me, rather than trying to help, but really requiring me to describe how they can help, and therefore what they’re doing is not helping, and then suddenly we’re dealing with their feelings about trying to help instead of my feelings which are the reasons we’re here in the first place.

You know what? I had a whole different place I was going when I started this. I was going to talk about the burnt spot on my finger.

I burned the tip of my index finger when I was burning my symbol of fear and aloneness tonight. I’m tempted to assign symbolism to this, a hidden meaning in burning my finger. Holding on to things too long? Burned by the cleansing flame?

I don’t think there’s any symbolism. I wanted to make sure the card was good and burned, because I didn’t want there to be any chance ever that anyone would read any of it, any of my floundering. And I was playing with the candles a little, trying to get it to burn in two spots.

There is hidden meaning there, in what I just wrote, but not symbolism. My desire to make sure no one sees me struggling to communicate – this is a symptom of the fear and aloneness that I want not to have any more. Even though I feel strong and well now, this is the kind of thing that will keep me huddled in my cave next time I don’t.

That’s why, even though I’m still not sure I’ve got the idea down, I’m putting this here. What I’m writing here isn’t smart, well written, or even entirely representative of what I was trying to say. But I need to be seen floundering. In a non-symbolic way, this thing I'm writing now is an act of contrition, a repudiation of pride, letting you, whoever you are, see me struggle and fail.

Whoever you are, please be merciful with what you read here.