Lent, Longing, and Learning from Jealousy

A Letter from the Wilderness

Liturgical Season: The Approach of Great Lent

Scripture for Reflection: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” – Philippians 4:8

I. The Weight of Lent Approaching

Dear Fellow Pilgrim,

Great Lent is coming, and I do not feel prepared. I want this season to be one where my heart, my mind, my soul are immersed in all that the Lord has for me. I have all the books, the prayers, the traditions at my fingertips, but I wonder—will I truly experience Lent? Will I emerge from it stronger, more whole, more awake to what God is doing in my life? I want to. Oh, I want to. But Lent approaches, and I feel like a child pretending to be an adult, stepping into something vast and sacred, unsure if I truly belong.

II. The Battle Within: The Child in Me Trying to Mother

CPTSD is an expert at making you feel inadequate. Less than. Inferior. Like a fraud. Instead of a mother, I feel like a child raising children—a bewildered soul trapped in a body that keeps aging, while my mind falls further behind. How was I ever allowed to have kids? How is it that I am responsible for these little beings when I still feel so lost myself? And yet, God gave them to me. He who knows me better than I know myself entrusted them to my care. Which means something must be true—Not only can I be a mother, but one day, I will feel like one too. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday, perhaps in a quiet moment, when I least expect it, I will look at them and realize—I have become what they needed me to be.

That day is coming. And I must not give up before it arrives.

III. The Grace in a Teenager’s Wisdom

Today, a teenager babysat my children. She is poised, mature, and confident. And in a strange, aching way, I envied her. How is it that at her young age, she possesses the very things I long for? How is it that I, at 38, still feel like a teenager myself—Frozen in time, watching my body grow older while my soul staggers behind? I should feel sad. And I won’t lie—I was a little jealous. She has something I admire. Something I want.

But then, I remembered something my therapist said: “Jealousy isn’t just about lacking—it’s about longing.” It points us toward what our heart truly desires. And when I look at my jealousy, I realize—The things I envy are not material, not shallow. They are virtues. They are habits. They are ways of being that reflect Christ. So maybe I should stop punishing myself for feeling jealousy. Maybe I should thank it instead.

“Thank you, jealousy, for showing me what my heart longs for.”
“Thank you for pointing me toward the goodness I desire.”
“Thank you for reminding me—this is something I, too, can grow into.”

IV. Steadying the Flame: Observing with Curiosity

Today, my DBT skill is observation.

> To observe nonjudgmentally—without tearing myself apart.
> To observe one-mindfully—without spinning into shame.
> To observe effectively—to use this longing as fuel, not chains.

Instead of sinking into inferiority, I choose inspiration. Instead of dwelling in what was stolen from me, I focus on what can still be. I choose to have hope for myself. To let God place that hope in my hands, to receive it with gratitude. And to let it grow.

V. Small Mercies: Today’s Glimpse of Grace

Today, grace found me in that teenager. Instead of leaving me in jealousy, she became a mirror of what is possible. Her wisdom at a young age does not diminish me—It reveals what can still grow in me. She is not a threat to my worth. She is a reflection of what is good, noble, lovely, and praiseworthy. And instead of feeling small, I praise God for the reminder.

VI. Liturgical Rhythm of Healing

The Orthodox Church, in its wisdom, does not throw us into Great Lent unprepared. The weeks leading up to it are a gentle unfolding, each Sunday offering a truth I need to hear. These weeks are not just markers on a calendar—they are a rhythm of healing, a guide for my restless heart.

This Sunday is Meatfare Sunday, the Sunday of the Last Judgment. It is a call to examine how I love. Christ reminds me that on the Last Day, I will not be judged by how well I kept up appearances, how competent I seemed, or how perfectly I fasted. I will be judged by love—by whether I saw Him in the hungry, the lonely, the forgotten.

As I wrestle with my own feelings of inadequacy, of longing to be more, I see a hidden grace in this reminder. The weight of my worth does not rest on how I feel, how much I have achieved, or how "grown-up" I appear. It rests on love. Do I give it? Do I receive it? Do I let it shape me?

This week, as I step closer to Lent, I am choosing to see my longing not as proof of my failure, but as a quiet invitation. Christ is showing me what is still possible. He is preparing me, not for perfection, but for love.

VII. Final Thoughts

I thought jealousy was something to suppress. But now I see—it is something to listen to. I thought Lent required me to be fully prepared. But now I know—Lent will shape me as I walk through it. I thought I was falling behind. But now I remember—growth is not measured in days but in direction. It is an issue of orientation. If I orient myself towards Christ, I will never labor alone and I will surely arrive at my destination, because He knows the way to Himself.

Closing Prayer

O Lord, You who planted within me a hunger for goodness, let me not be crushed by longing but drawn forward by it. Teach me to see my desires as a map, pointing me toward You—for in You are all those things, and together they sketch the outline of the person I long to be one with. And in that person, Yes, I will have all those things. But most of all, I will have you. Let me not be ashamed of where I am, but rejoice in where I am going. Thank You for the small mercies that remind me—nothing is lost, nothing is wasted. I am still growing. Amen.

+ Has jealousy ever pointed you toward something good? How do you turn longing into inspiration instead of discouragement? +