Giving It Up for Lent

I am a cradle Catholic, meaning I was baptized into this denomination of Christianity as an infant. 

It is an honor and privilege I take quite seriously and one for which I am deeply grateful to my parents.

In any event, I try diligently to observe the established, revered practices of my faith. 

To that end, I am making a concerted effort to honor and commemorate the holy season of Lent.

For those who may be unfamiliar, Lent is a season of preparation for Easter. It mirrors Jesus’ forty days of temptation in the desert and also anticipates His passion, death, and triumphant resurrection.

Like millions of Catholics (and the many other denominations of Christians the world over), I am focusing on introspection, sacrifice, abstinence, fasting and generally just trying to be pleasing in the sight of the good Lord, Capisce?

Anyway, as stated, I am trying. I don’t always succeed. 

Sigh. 

But the Big Guy knows our hearts, so I’m hoping and praying (literally) that He forgives my slip-ups and grants my wishes for a “re-do” after each failure.

Fingers crossed – and hands folded.

I digress.

As a child attending St. Matthias Catholic Church (on the south side of Youngstown, Ohio) from grades one through eight, I was taught that Lent is an ideal time to sort of “dig deep” in terms of being Christ-like.

We were all encouraged to make individual sacrifices such as forgoing sweets, skipping indulgences (fave TV shows, etc.) or praying more often and fervently than “normal.” This one’s never a bad idea, by the by.

Naturally, we unequivocally abstained from meat on Ash Wednesday (the first official day of Lent) as well as on each Friday falling within the 40-day parameter. As a non-meat eater (technically a pescatarian, I suppose), the latter restriction was never really an issue for me. 

Just as an aside, there is also a contingent out there adhering to the school of thought that Sundays and St. Patrick’s Day are exempt from said guidelines. 

Hmm. No judgment here. Sort of an individual call, no? 

Either way, even as an old chick (60 will be here in a few short years, ugh!), I’ve never forgotten how the nuns urged us “give up” a favorite food or pastime for the duration of Lent. 

Back in the day, I always chose chocolate as both a preferred snack AND a bad habit to kick – if only temporarily. We won’t discuss the gluttony that ensued on Easter Sunday. 

Ahem.

Regardless, now that I’m older and allegedly more mature, I realize that, indeed, adding a corresponding positive deed might be a worthy effort, too, so I’m giving it the old college try.

So, this year, in addition to refraining from cussing (not proud of that one), and swigging booze (just teasing, I’m a teetotaler!), I am attempting to embrace every opportunity to do a little something good.

You know, as in “What Would Jesus Do?” Because, let’s face it, that’s what I should be doing all day, every day. Period.

Ergo, I am now in the midst of full court press against, well, myself.

Each time I’m tempted to utter negativity or spout something that doesn’t offer value, optimism or any other constructive engagement I stop, drop and roll.

As in, with the punches. 

I close my eyes tightly and do my best to squelch my own negative Nancy nuttiness.

With any luck and lots of mindful invocation, I’ll glide through Lent with nary a curmudgeonly comment.

But, to quote Dionne Warwick, if you want to “say a little prayer” for me, I’ll take it. During Lent and forevermore, my Peeps! 

​And I’m happy to offer in kind – literally.

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