Two weeks ago today, my family sat around the breakfast table discussing what we planned to lay down for Lent. Last year I gave up sleep. I set my clock 15 minutes earlier every morning so that I could spend time in prayerful meditation before starting my day; a taxing task for my circadian rhythm.
This year I kind of, sort of counted on trying something easier. I questioned my children and husband about their intentions, hoping they picked trivial trials so I could, too. My three sons chose to give up video games for 40 days. My daughter gave up television. My husband gave up Diet Coke.
Well, dang it all to Dixie! I couldn’t very well announce to them, with a pure heart, “I think I’ll quit bingo,” when they tethered themselves to misery for over a month. But I really wanted to avoid traveling the wide and rambling road to perdition via gambling via bingo; a slippery slope indeed.
My loved ones would have shouted me down, however, with, “But you don’t even play bingo!” Thus, in an imprudent reaction to their donning of hair shirts I swore off chocolate. CHOCOLATE! My husband gave me a box of delicious morsels for Valentine’s Day and I had to tell him, “Get behind me, Satan.”
Not a day passes that the devil doesn’t tempt me with the sweet, palate appeasing goodness of the commodities of the cocoa bean. In fact, two weeks into this, I have discovered that we live in a chocolate covered world. The point of Lent being to spiritually elevate one’s self above the trappings of this mortal existence, I suppose I made an excellent choice for a Lenten Discipline.
But, oh, my soul is hungry.
(Join Lucy Adams this Saturday, 2p.m., at Barnes & Noble on Augusta West Parkway, where she will sign copies of her book, If Mama Don’t Laugh, It Ain’t Funny.)