Lent 2025 Day 10: Don't Be Weary. Swim to Shore.

“Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9 

Connie Castro and Vidal Castro, my parents.

It has been five years since my mom passed away. Technically, my siblings and I are orphans. It’s an interesting club to be part of.

My dad passed away in 2009 from lung cancer. He was diagnosed in 2007, and the first thing I did was search for a prognosis. WebMD estimated he had two to five years. He was turning 70 and had planned to come to the States with my mom and nephew for a family reunion and a birthday celebration. Instead, he canceled their tickets and checked into a hospital in Cebu. A doctor promised to save his life by removing 80% of his left lung. My sister, an oncology nurse, urged him to return to the States so she could care for him. But my dad, ever the narcissist, believed he knew better and clung to hope. There’s nothing wrong with that. Had he chosen chemo and radiation instead of surgery alone, he might have had more than two years. But that’s neither here nor there.

I miss my mom every day. Even though we were separated by 5,000 miles, I always knew I could visit her—if I was willing to endure 16 to 30 hours on a plane. Turning 50 and deciding to go to law school was an interesting choice, one I had put off for far too long. I wasn’t afraid of the LSATs; I just didn’t think I was smart enough. I still don’t know if I am. But on the first day, our professors and advisors reassured us: we deserved to be there. We had worked hard to get into law school, and what we did from that point on was up to us. They were there to help us succeed.

I know my life has been a dumpster fire for a few years. I needed a break from my regularly programmed existence. But I also know my mom and dad were proud of me—and still are. They had plenty of commentary about how I lived my life when they were alive. Not about being gay; they worried more about me being alone. Instead of giving me relationship advice, they taught me to be fiercely independent: how to balance a checkbook, change a tire, darn a sock, cook, and clean. I appreciated their thoughtfulness, but I also wondered—why didn’t they think I could maintain a long-term relationship?

I’m fine. Really. My life is full. I have lived different lives, embarked on many adventures, and now, I am on another great one—diving into the unknown of higher education and a terminal degree. No matter how many career advancements or professional achievements I attain, it will never feel like enough. Not because I lack intelligence, but because a system exists to make people like me feel that way. Erasing that broken record of doubt is its own adventure. But I persist. As we all should.

Like many, I have felt stuck. I’ve made poor choices—sometimes the same ones repeatedly—wondering what I need to change. A friend once gave me great advice in my early twenties. I told her I always felt like I was just trying to keep my head above water. She asked simply, "Have you ever thought about swimming to shore?" I hadn’t. I was using all my energy to stay afloat; maybe I could find the strength to swim to safety. It sounds simple, but it isn’t. Still, it is a different way to look at being stuck. Maybe we all need to start swimming to shore. 

Lenten Reflection: 

As we journey through Lent, a time of reflection and renewal, I find solace in knowing that even in struggle, there is purpose. In the wilderness of grief, self-doubt, and reinvention, we are not alone. Just as Jesus fasted and faced temptation in the desert, we, too, endure trials that test our resilience. But through faith and perseverance, we emerge stronger.

Galatians 6:9 reminds us: "Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."

In a world that feels increasingly heavy—with injustice, hate, and systemic oppression pressing in—it’s easy to feel exhausted, to wonder if our efforts even matter. But this verse calls us to persevere, to keep showing up, to keep fighting for what is right even when the progress seems slow and the resistance relentless.

May we press forward, not just struggling to keep our heads above water, but finding the strength to push forward, to create change, and to build the future we deserve. The shore is distant, but it is there. And together, we will reach it.

Take care of yourself and take care of each other.

#Lent2025 #SpiritualWilderness #HopeFloats #LifeLessons