Here Where I Stand at the Turning of the Years

I've been meaning to post something for a couple weeks, not wanting to let an entire calendar year go by without acknowledging my little corner of the internet still exists... and yet here I am, just over three hours until 2023, finally writing something down. What's about to come out of my brain? Let's find out.

In the past I've occasionally regretted, at the times I thought about it, the "lost years" of this blog, the 18-ish months that are creeping up on two decades ago when I stopped writing for a while. And now I've done it again. But I suppose the last two years have been lost years for all of us--so many plans unrealized, so many dreams unfulfilled, so much time unused... and so many lives gone out of reach forever. I have nothing new to say about this except to acknowledge that we're all still stuck in this time of collective grief over what we've lost and it's no wonder some folks have turned to anger and others have withdrawn into themselves. (Mind you, I make no excuses for the bad behavior committed out of anger. Everyone is still responsible for their own choices and there is no excuse for lashing out. If you won't behave yourself, stay home instead of forcing your poor choices on others.)

All that said, I haven't even decided whether to create goals for 2023. I have some ideas, things I'd like to do a bit differently from what I've done before. But I also know that until I write them down, they'll stay vague ideas. So perhaps the best way to kick off 2023 will be to come back here and see if I can't let some thoughts start to take shape. Perhaps I'll see you here tomorrow, then.

I tried finding the original source of this quote. No such source exists, which is to say, everyone has said it at least once. I guess it's my turn.

In the meantime, may you and yours have a safe and happy new year.

New Every Morning

Every time I think there's no reason for me to do an updated version of an old post, I get new inspiration. It's like clockwork. This year, that clockwork comes via the usual place: Evangelical friends who've decided that maybe they might like to try out the Lent thing, just once, to see if they like it. But they aren't sure where to begin. Indeed, we've come a long way since the days when I had to hide from everyone I knew that I was observing Lent. I'm like a Lenten hipster.

What I am not, however, is any kind of an expert, which is why it baffles me that people keep asking me questions. All I have to offer is long experience as a once-Evangelical (these days I think of myself as a boring Protestant, nothing more) who spent many years treating Lent like a cafeteria line before finally settling upon my own observance. If my experience is of any help to you, come on in. If you already come from a high church tradition, or if you're horrified that your Evangelical friends would even think of doing Lent, this post is not really for you. (If you aren't interested in Christianity at all, it's extra-really not for you. Sorry; it's part of who I am, but if it doesn't work for you, maybe my next post will be more your speed.)

You know what my neighborhood has a lot of? Churches. I went out in the pre-winter-storm chill to take pics of a few.

With those disclaimers firmly in mind, here's my FAQ:

1) Lent? But why? Isn't that a Catholic thing?

It's not an exclusively Catholic practice, and as your friend I urge you to Google a bit. As for 'why,' it's a practice that I find helpful and comforting. As always, YMMV.

2) Are you judging me for not doing Lent?

Fortunately, this question has gotten less frequent over time, and thank goodness, because it's awfully silly. No. You do you.

3) Don't you think we've already given up enough in the last year? Why would we want to add another thing?

I absolutely do think that. If you just can't face adding Lent to your life right now, no worries. It's okay if you skip a year, or relax a bit from the things you would normally do, or wait until 2022 to try it for the first time. OTOH, if you think, "here is one thing in my life I can keep unchanged," go right ahead. 

Everything has changed in a hurry; it's okay to make your Lenten observance serve what you need right now. Jesus himself said that the Sabbath was made for people, not the other way around.

4) Do you have any Lenten resources to recommend?

This is an area that's wide open to your own interests. If you're looking to dive into a particular area of your faith more deeply, that's a good place to start. Perhaps you have a daily devotional guide that you opened a couple times the first week of the year but have been neglecting ever since. 

As for me, I will usually pick a book of the Bible and read through it multiple times throughout Lent, and I've never gone looking for other resources beyond that. Maybe that's a new thing I can try for 2021 so I finally have an answer to this question next year.

5) Should I announce my fast on social media?

In my experience, people get a little worked up about this one, which is probably why I've heard a lot of strange reasons in favor of blowing a virtual trumpet on Shrove Tuesday. Here's what I got:

• Before you decide, please read Matthew 6:16-18 and carefully consider your motivation for announcing your fast.
• If you're asking me as someone who's done this many times and has some experience of the value of people knowing my fast vs not: no, you shouldn't.
• If you're asking because you're looking for some accountability: I'd suggest you find an offline human, or if it must be online, that you approach someone you trust via private message.
• If you're asking because giving up Facebook is your fast and you want to let everyone know where you're going: I'd only do it if you know for sure your absence will upset someone. A social media fast is a good exercise in humility, because you'll realize upon your return just how well that world keeps on spinning without you. (I say this from astonished experience.) If you absolutely need to let someone know you're going, this is probably best done via private message rather than a public announcement.
• If you're asking for spiritual guidance, I refer you again to Matthew 6:16-18.

5.5) But don't you think that if I announce it on Facebook, it might start a conversation about faith that could lead someone to follow Jesus?

I absolutely do not. If we've learned nothing else from the last decade or so on social media, we've learned that productive conversations rarely happen on Facebook. Facebook is where civil conversation went to die quite a long time ago. It's not going to happen.

If you want to try anyway, then I admire your faith in humanity. Good luck. (Although I would add that if you are into proselytizing, Lent is probably not a great tool to use for that. So... good luck.)

 

6) Do I have to do the food part of fasting, like meatless Fridays?

Are you participating in Lent as part of your faith tradition, and does that faith tradition ask you to go meatless? If so, in order to fully participate with your community: yes. If you're creating your own community or going it alone, then you have a bit more leeway to decide which elements, if any, of the traditional fast you're going to adopt. If you've never done any fasting from food before (and do not have a medical condition that precludes fasting), this could be an opportunity to try it.

 

7) Did you know Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday is 46 days, not 40?

Yes. Sundays don't count as part of the 40 days because Christians celebrate Jesus' resurrection on those days, and that celebration supersedes the mourning/fasting of Lent.

8) Does it matter what I give up?

Yes, it matters, but maybe not in the way you're asking. (And it's okay if you haven't decided yet.) Some things to consider:

• What are you trying to learn from Lent? What areas of your life need growth? Think about that and let that shape your fast. Also keep in mind that your fast, if it's helping you learn/grow, may not be something you want to stop at Easter. You can absolutely use these six weeks as a starting point for something more permanent.
• You may feel like giving up chocolate or TV or something small is silly. But if you're a first-timer or you choose something small that will be a genuine challenge, there's no reason to feel less than because you gave up coffee. Growth can come from small things, too.
• Consider how you will keep yourself in check when your chosen fast starts really tugging on your brain. If you give up coffee and the trade-off is that you're unbearable to your coworkers for six weeks, maybe you're not quite displaying the love of Jesus in the way you'd intended. Have a plan for refocusing yourself when needed.
• It's not so much what you're giving up; it's what you replace it with. So before you say, "Got it!" take some time to consider what you're adding to your life during Lent.  

8.5) If there's something in your Christian life that's a problem, shouldn't you fix it all the time instead of just six weeks a year?
I didn't realize for a long time indeed that there are folks who believe this is the point of Lent--to temporarily stop doing the things that shouldn't be part of Christian life at all. That's not it. Lent is intended as a time of fasting, which is a different thing than abstaining from vices.

Of course, if this six weeks is a good starting point for making a change you've been wanting to make, great! I hope it goes well for you. But that doesn't mean it *has* to be that, and for many people, it's not. So, if that's your concern about Lent, you can stop worrying.
 

9) What if I don't start on Ash Wednesday or fizzle out by the end?
It happens. It's okay if you're human. The Israelites prayed, "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." (That's Lamentations 3:22-23.) Make a new beginning as often as you need to; the important thing is that you keep going.

10) What else do I need to know?
Get in there and do it, and be open to what changes in you. Six weeks is a nice length of time to focus specifically on the things you want to give attention to--it's long enough to be a challenge, but short enough to feel doable. Come Easter Sunday, you may be surprised by what you've learned about yourself and your Christian walk in so short a time.

If you have a community to do this with, by all means, embrace that community whole-heartedly and do this together. God has placed you in a community for good reason, and fasting together as a shared experience can multiply your joys and divide your struggles. Do not neglect your community this Lent. Embrace them. And if you have to embrace your community via Zoom this year, so be it!

Hello, 2021 (please wipe your feet)

I thought it would be a good idea to bring in the new year by getting my digital life in order, or at least making a start at it. Now, an entire workday's time later, I'm taking a break from relentless unsubscribing.

Most years, there are two predictable sets of posts throughout the blogosphere to welcome the new calendar: the resolution posts, and the I-don't-make-resolutions posts. Both kinds are endearing in their own way, I suppose, but this year I would welcome them both as a harbinger of less-interesting times. Alas, our times remain interesting, and are likely to be so for some time to come.

I searched "goal" on free images, and got this. 1) They're not wrong; and 2) this is exactly the kind of metaphor I was looking for and didn't even know it. Photo by Julie Elliott-Abshire from FreeImages.

As for me, I am toying with a few goals for the year, but am in no hurry to get them set. (I'm waiting on results from a COVID test, anyway, so there's a chance I have some unexpected non-working days next week to think it over.) I'll probably land on doing monthly goals, which benefit from having a shorter time frame as a built-in anti-procrastination guard. I also like Gretchen Rubin's "21 for 21" idea, and have tossed that one into the hopper to see what comes out.

I've taken the odd moment over the last couple weeks to think over some things I used to do but don't now, and the reasons why I stopped. Two big life events seem to be the main culprits, and yet not the obvious one: when I went back to university in 2010, and when I dragged myself across 1000+ miles to start a new life in Cincinnati in 2016. Of course, 2020 itself bears some of the blame, since in the past few months it's been pretty easy to justify not doing anything extra. Some of the things I've lost along the way:

• Watching basketball games on TV. I used to love watching basketball. This one got lost when I went to UT.
• Watching NCIS and its many spinoffs. Ditto on losing this one to higher education.
• Training well for half marathons. This one would be easy to blame on going to UT, and that is part of the reason, but the bigger problem lies in me jumping into a marathon too soon and never being able to find the spark since. And that's been a loooooong time. Don't get me wrong, I've continued to run half marathons at least once a year from 2008 up until 2020 shut everything down, but I haven't put in that same level of effort and intention, which I used to enjoy, in about a decade. I'm not sure I know how to fix this one.
• Reading a lot. This one fizzled after I moved to Cincinnati, and the fizzling was compounded by 2020. Doomscrolling is way too convenient (and while the term is new, for me as for many, the practice is not).
• Writing a lot. Another Cincinnati casualty, for some reason.

Is this a starting point for 2021 goals? Perhaps. I'm unlikely to return to watching a lot of TV, my fondness for Timothy McGee notwithstanding, but I can watch one or two Pacers games a week, methinks. Or perhaps it's time to acknowledge that I accidentally had that personality change that I always joke about having not had.

Whatever your choice for 2021--lots of resolutions, one or two goals, just hanging on tight to see what comes next--I wish you all the best for a year that goes your way more often than not. Indeed, I think that's the best we can all hope for.

Good-bye, 2020 (don't let the door hit you)

I may have let an entire year go by since my last post, but I didn't want 2020 to go racing out the door altogether without shoving in at least a few words. Someone asked me earlier today, "How are you celebrating the new year?" and I said, "By going to bed on time and getting up when it's 2021. Oh, and probably by putting something on my blog about it being my anniversary. People love my widow content."

So, widow content is what you get.

I went to Canva looking for a nice New Year image, and this one seemed as likely as any. I thought the one that was a warning to be on the lookout for suspicious activity was too on the nose for 2020's last day.

It starts every year with Chadwick's birthday on October 4. I get a carrot cake or two to share at work, I post something cutesy on Facebook about how all October 4 calories are on Chadwick, and then the day ends and the earth continues to turn. And while I try not to let it spill on those around me, it's true that as the nights get longer, my days get darker. The holidays whirl by complete with what would have been, tomorrow, our 19th anniversary.

It's only a few weeks more until the *other* anniversary comes round, and while the seasons have changed and the literal hours of darkness are already shorter than they were earlier in December, my mental darkness will continue to grow. It's a cycle that's set in that I can't seem to shake--not that I've tried that hard, not that I want to shake it. Apart from the occasional inquiry from friends and acquaintances, the only person this darkness affects is me. And I'm fine with it, for now.

As great as it is when I get to visit with those who knew and loved Chadwick well, it's lovely to daily be surrounded by people who never knew Chadwick. People whose only connection to him is me. It's a gift to have so many friends and coworkers who welcome the stories of a very odd duck who took things as they came and made my life brighter by being in it. And so, if my 2021 starts off dim because I'm still missing the brightest star that ever shone onto my path... so be it.

It's probably best that such a bright soul didn't have to see 2020, anyway.

Happy new year, friends! As Colonel Potter says, may she be a damn sight better than the old one.

Ashes to Ashes

For some reason, my pre-Lent posts have been wildly popular the last couple years. I'm not certain why that is, but in case you've dropped by under the impression that I know things, I want to state as strongly as possible: I am not an expert. My Lenten experiences have no basis in any particular branch of Christianity, in part because in my early years of observing Lent I had to keep it a secret from my extremely Evangelical family. They would have flipped their collective lids.

At the Cathedral Church of St John
the Divine in New York.
One of the most beautiful
buildings I've ever been in in my life.

So Middle School Su had to cobble together her own path through this time of year, and now that I have nearly 30 years' experience of Cafeteria Lent, folks trying it for the first time tend to ask me questions. So this post is an FAQ of what previously non-observing friends and acquaintances usually want to know ahead of Ash Wednesday.

1. Are you judging me for not doing Lent?

No. I don't have the interest or mental energy for keeping that close of tabs on your life. You do you and I'll do the same.

2. Do you have any Lenten resources to recommend?

I do not, but if there's a particular area of your faith that you'd like to explore more, that's a good starting place. Your local library probably has a decent religion & spirituality section.

3. Should I announce my fast on Facebook?

People are a little weird about this one, which is probably why I've heard a lot of strange reasons in favor of blowing a virtual trumpet on Shrove Tuesday. Here's what I got:

• Before you decide, please read Matthew 6:16-18 and carefully consider your motivation for announcing your fast.
• If you're asking me as someone who's done this many times and has some experience of the value of people knowing my fast vs not: no, you shouldn't.
• If you're asking because you're hoping that announcing your fast will start faith-producing conversations: you have wildly misjudged the medium if you expect a productive conversation on Facebook. Still, if you'd like to forge ahead and have an exceptionally open-minded audience, go ahead and try it. Best of luck.
• If you're asking because you're looking for some accountability: I'd suggest you find an offline human, or if it must be online, that you approach someone you trust via private message.
• If you're asking because giving up Facebook is your fast and you want to let everyone know where you're going: I'd only do it if your absence will upset someone. A social media fast is a good exercise in humility, because you'll realize upon your return just how well that world keeps on spinning without you. (I say this from astonished experience.) If you absolutely need to let someone know you're going, this is probably best done via private message rather than a public announcement.
• If you're asking for spiritual guidance, I refer you again to Matthew 6:16-18.

4. Do I have to go meatless on Fridays?

Are you participating in Lent as part of your faith tradition, and does that faith tradition ask you to go meatless? If so, in order to fully participate with your community: yes. If you're creating your own community or going it alone, then you have a bit more leeway to decide which elements, if any, of the traditional fast you're going to adopt. 

5. Did you know it doesn't really add up to 40 days?

Yes. Sundays don't count as part of the 40 days because Christians celebrate Jesus' resurrection on those days, and that celebration supersedes the mourning/fasting of Lent. 

6. Does it matter what I give up?

Yes, it matters, but maybe not in the way you're asking. (And it's okay if you haven't decided yet.) Some things to consider:

• What are you trying to learn from Lent? What areas of your life need growth? Think about that and let that shape your fast. Also keep in mind that your fast, if it's helping you learn/grow, may not be something you want to stop at Easter. You can absolutely use these six weeks as a starting point for something more permanent.
• Some folks are under the impression that people only give up sins that they should have already been trying to remove from their lives. Now, if Lent helps you do that, I'm not about to tell you not to. Six weeks of focused intent may be you push you need to finally deal with that thing. However, it doesn't have to be that, and for many participants it's not.
• You may feel like giving up chocolate or TV or something small is silly. But if you're a first-timer or you choose something small that will be a genuine challenge, there's no reason to feel less than because you gave up coffee. Growth can come from small things, too.
• Consider how you will keep yourself in check when your chosen fast starts really tugging on your brain. If you give up coffee and the trade-off is that you're unbearable to your coworkers for six weeks, maybe you're not quite displaying the love of Jesus in the way you'd intended. Have a plan for refocusing yourself when needed.
• It's not so much what you're giving up; it's what you replace it with. So before you say, "Got it!" take some time to consider what you're adding to your life during Lent. 

7. What if I don't start on Ash Wednesday or fizzle out by the end?

It happens. That's why the Israelites prayed, "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." (That's Lamentations 3:22-23.) Make a new beginning as often as you need to.

8. What else do I need to know?

Get in there and do it, and be open to what changes in you. If you have a community to do this with, by all means, embrace that community whole-heartedly and do this together. God has placed you in a community for good reason, and fasting together as a shared experience can multiply your joys and divide your struggles. Do not neglect your community this Lent. Embrace them.

You still have a couple days to get ready, but try not to wait until 11:50 Tuesday night.

Out of the Darkness

I've lived my whole life with a risen Saviour. It's never been a question, it's a thing I can't remember not knowing. Easter Sunday is but another confirmation of that which I live with every day: He is risen indeed.

You know who didn't know that? Jesus' original followers. And this is another thing I've always known, that they went through Holy Saturday filled with grief and despair, not knowing how close hope and joy was. Not knowing just how brief this season of sorrow was going to be. They looked ahead and could only see an endless stretch of empty days filled with discarded dreams--how could they possibly go back to their old lives after all they'd seen and done?

But knowing that this was what they felt is a different thing, on this side of Resurrection Sunday, than feeling what they felt. I have a pretty vivid imagination, and some experience of grief, and you probably do, too, so we have an idea of what that day was like. Which means we also have an idea of what it was like on Sunday, when they friend and leader they thought was lost turned out to not be, when grief mingled with surprise and disbelief and finally gave way to joy. A joy that I now share in but likewise can't fully know on this side of eternity.

I keep coming back to this verse in 2 Corinthians, particularly in the springtime when the whole world feels new. The Cincinnati weather for the past couple weeks has not given me a lot to celebrate in the way of spring arriving, between our freezing temperatures and our gloom, but on Easter Sunday the joy and newness comes from within, no matter what the skies are doing. It is a time to rejoice.

A time to remember that even in the darkest moment, hope remains. All things will still become new.

Halfway

Lent always last a couple weeks longer than I think it will. It's not like I go into Ash Wednesday unsure if Lent is the same length every year, or like I don't know when Easter is, but I still always get a couple weeks in and think, "We're about done with this, right?" Case in point: I almost wrote this "halfway there!" post last week.

So, we're halfway through Lent now, and as spring creeps closer and Easter is almost upon us, I'm seeing more than usual the wisdom of having Lent as a pre-Easter preparation rather than before other Christian holidays. Last year, my first winter back in the Midwest after a 20-year absence, was barely any kind of winter at all. I said then and am still saying now that last winter was God's way of easing me back into the climate that I fled for good reason, but this winter has been a little bit closer to the early dark and freezing temps and one-warm-day-haha-fooled-you weather yoyo that I remember from my childhood. And it is wearing me down.

People were walking past these daffodils
like it's no big deal! Like the winter is not
sucking their lives away! I don't know how
other people do it. I saw these flowers and
did quite the happy dance right there on
the sidewalk.

The past week or so I've been eagerly checking every bush and tree that I walk by for signs of new life, and I'm finally seeing signs of reawakening--some tiny buds here, a set of early leaves there, and reliable bulbs like daffodils and lilies saying "ready or not, here we come," to the ambient temperatures and shooting out of the ground right on cue. These signs of life are giving me strength to journey on, and also to walk through the streets of Cincinnati singing "Wick." (No word on how my fellow citizens feel about my musical interludes. I like to think of it as a public service.)

Lent begins in the darkness of winter, at a time when the sunlight- and warmth-loving among us (me) are just about ready to throw in the towel and go hibernate for a few weeks until the weather gets its act together. But to take on Lent seriously is to push myself even when it's hard and I want to give up, so that on Easter Sunday and beyond I can rejoice at the new growth and rebirth taking place in my own life, for having gone through the hard days and persevered through the struggle. And then I'll look around at the trees and flowers and all of creation rejoicing with me.

Halfway there, friends. Let's persevere through these last few weeks of winter together so we can rejoice together in the spring.

The Replacements

Ash Wednesday is upon us. Not ready? It's not too late. Really. I've started late a few times, and had to re-start more often than that. Tomorrow is always a new day.

So! I'm not sharing my fast, because I don't. And this year's fast was really quite an easy choice. The more difficult preparation for me was deciding what to do instead.

I will definitely fall into this hole if given half a chance.
Source: Asif Akbar on freeimages.com.

Maybe other people don't have this problem. If you don't, I salute you and hope you'll write your own blog post about how you succeed. But for me, I can't just take things away and be done with it. I have to have something to fill the space, or the same old things will fall in again when I'm not looking. If I want a change to stick, even if I decide this one is only for the next six weeks, then I need a smooth surface to build on, not one riddled with potholes.

My process was pretty simple: I looked around and thought, "What are some things I've been neglecting that I can give attention to during Lent?" I'm going so far as to create myself a pretty list to hang up on my wall for when my brain starts getting tugged in the direction of something that's off the table until Easter, because I will forget without something there to remind me. I have, it seems, learned some tricks for accommodating the gaping holes in this brain of mine. This is similar to my practice of not bringing chocolate into the house so I won't eat a ton of it in one sitting, except from the opposite direction.

Here's what I came up with:
1. Reading
Kevin Tuerff's Channel of Peace is on my shelf and ready to go. I have Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Life Together on hold at the library. And I realized earlier this week that my skills at finding something quickly in a paper Bible are almost non-existent after many years of using an ebook version, so I have one likewise on a shelf where I will see it and remember to open it up.

2. Writing
Between this blog, the Women in the Marketplace blog I've neglected even more than this one, and a still very much unfinished school story that I would really like to find out how it ends, I have plenty to keep my keyboard busy. Incidentally, sad blog posts are coming this weekend. I know some of you only come round for those, but if that's not you, I won't be offended if you run away until the sad stuff is done.

3. Crafting
I've lost track of how many projects I have in progress, but there are three in particular that I'd like to finish soon, and one I need to start because it has a hard deadline.

I'm not certain what this hand is doing, so I'm off to a
good start. Source: John Hughes on freeimages.com.

4. And some other things...
There are some things on my list that I think it's best that I keep to myself. Things that should remain, like the fast itself, with the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing. Maybe after Lent is over I'll share some more. We'll see how it goes.

How do you deal with changes you'd like to make in your life--temporary or permanent? Do you fill up the gap with something else right away, or are you able to leave it alone and let it heal on its own?

Almost Time

If you're planning to observe Lent this year, but haven't worked out how yet, now's probably a good time to think about it. I mention this because I have a tendency to think I have more time than I really do for most things, and it's possible other people have a similar affliction. 

Don't forget: we already know this
story has a happy ending.
Source: George Bosela on
freeimages.com.

I write pre-Lenten posts not because I'm any kind of an expert on Lent, but because I got a few years' head start on most of my previously non-observing acquaintances, so people tend to ask me relevant questions. The least I can do is share a few things I've learned on this journey, in case you were wondering but don't have anyone to ask. So, here you are:

1. Are you judging me for not doing Lent?

No. I don't have that kind of mental energy. You do you and I'll do the same.

2. Do you have any Lenten resources to recommend?

I do not, but if there's a particular area of your faith that you'd like to explore more, that's a good starting place. Your local library probably has a decent religion & spirituality section.

3. Should I announce my fast on Facebook?

People are a little weird about this one, which is probably why I've heard a lot of strange reasons in favor of blowing a virtual trumpet on Shrove Tuesday. Here's what I got:

• Before you decide, please read Matthew 6:16-18 and carefully consider your motivation for announcing your fast.
• If you're asking me as someone who's done this many times and has some experience of the value of people knowing my fast vs not: no, you shouldn't.
• If you're asking because you're hoping that announcing your fast will start faith-producing conversations: you may have misjudged the medium if you expect a productive conversation on Facebook, but if you have an exceptionally open-minded audience, go ahead and try it. Best of luck.
• If you're asking because you're looking for some accountability: I'd suggest you find an offline human, or if it must be online, that you approach someone you trust via private message.
• If you're asking because giving up Facebook is your fast and you want to let everyone know where you're going: I'd only do it if your absence will upset someone. Again, this is probably best done via private message rather than a public announcement.
• If you're asking for spiritual guidance, I refer you again to Matthew 6:16-18.

4. Do I have to go meatless on Fridays?

Are you participating in Lent as part of your faith tradition, and if so, does that faith tradition ask you to go meatless? If so, in order to fully participate with your community: yes. If you're creating your own community or going it alone, then you have a bit more leeway to decide which elements, if any, of the traditional fast you're going to adopt. 

5. Did you know it doesn't really add up to 40 days?

Yes. Sundays don't count as part of the 40 days because Christians celebrate Jesus' resurrection on those days, and that celebration supersedes the mourning/fasting of Lent. (Sundays aren't meant to be days "off," though. Lent isn't a diet with cheat days built in.)

6. Does it matter what I give up?

Yes, it matters, but maybe not in the way you're asking. (And it's okay if you haven't decided yet.) Some things to consider:

• What are you trying to learn from Lent? What areas of your life need growth? Think about that and let that shape your fast. Also keep in mind that your fast, if it's helping you learn/grow, may not be something you want to stop at Easter. You can absolutely use these six weeks as a starting point for something more permanent.
• Some folks are under the impression that people only give up sins that they should have already been trying to remove from their lives. Now, if Lent helps you do that, I'm not about to tell you not to. Six weeks of focused intent may be you push you need to finally deal with that thing. 
• You may feel like giving up chocolate or TV or something small is silly. But if you're a first-timer or you choose something small that will be a genuine challenge, there's no reason to feel less than because you gave up coffee. Growth can come from small things, too.
• It's not so much what you're giving up; it's what you replace it with. So before you say, "Got it!" take some time to consider what you're adding to your life during Lent.

7. What if I don't start on Ash Wednesday or fizzle out by the end?

It happens. That's why the Israelites prayed, "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." (That's Lamentations 3:22-23.) Make a new beginning as often as you need to.

8. What else do I need to know?

Get in there and do it, and be open to what changes in you. If you have a community to do this with, by all means, embrace that community whole-heartedly and do this together. God has placed you in a community for good reason, and fasting together as a shared experience can multiply your joys and divide your struggles. Do not neglect your community this Lent. Embrace them.

You still have a couple days to get ready, but try not to wait until 11:50 Tuesday night.

And the World Still Spins

I didn't really mean to say, "Hey, I'm outliving my husband today!" and then run off for three months, but seriously, the words and I haven't been getting along for so long that right now I'm basically doing a writerly smash and grab and planning to sprint off the second I'm done before I get caught.

My theme for 2017 has accidentally been Rent, which started when I chose "Creation" as my word for the year because of the line "The opposite of war isn't peace; it's creation!" Act 2 of Rent begins on New Year's Eve with basically the best song ever for facing a new year. So I'm sure it's a surprise to no one that that's what I have on repeat this morning.

Another reason I haven't had a lot to write about lately is that it's hard to be lighthearted when the whole world is coming apart at the seams. There's a lot to be angry about right now, but I tend to translate my person anger into works of fiction that will never be published and gripe sessions with coworkers instead of bringing it here. To say nothing of the internet becoming unbearable because so many people I care about insist on defending the indefensible. Let's make the world better in 2018, y'all. Not whatever this nonsense has been.

The story never ends. Let's celebrate and remember a year in the life of friends.

Final Third

Labor Day marks the end of summer for most of us (even though summer still has about three weeks to go), and these days, the beginning of the dreaded season of pumpkin spice in everything. I saw some pumpkin spice chocolate chip cookies in Kroger last week--why? Why??

Labor Day is also a nice breath for people in the academic to pause for a second after a few weeks back at the daily grind. While I'm very happy indeed that I'm no longer in that group, I've always appreciated friends who share how they take this time of year to refocus, set new goals, and otherwise gear up for the adventure ahead. And with the year two-thirds done, I agree it's a great time to think about what's left undone in 2017.

I had to go look to find out whether I'd even written down any goals for this year, if that tells you how much attention I've paid to them. But here are the two that pertain to running to focus on in this final third of the year:

1. Get my running in.
I looked at my log yesterday for grins to check out my history with running mileage. I have over 10 years of data in that log now. When I started keeping track in 2006 (which was before I started running, btw), I thought I'd probably fizzle out after a few months and it would just be another thing stuck in my files that I felt too guilty to look at again, ever.
Anyway, here's what it looks like:

• 2007: 321
• 2008: 625
• 2009: 775
• 2010: 407
• 2011: 122
• 2012: 269
• 2013: 181
• 2014: 257
• 2015: 230
• 2016: 355
• 2017 (so far): 233

So I guess I'm hitting pretty near average? Ai yi yi, no wonder I've never been that good at running. Some people run almost as much in a month as I do some years--but then again, this is not an area of my life that I need to compare with other people. Instead, now's a great time to stick to the plan for the rest of the year (418 more miles, if I do them all) and see what kind of magic happens.

Near the river is fine, as long as I stay on the Ohio side.
Over that bridge there be dragons, although there's also
a (slightly) lower sales tax rate.

2. Go outside every day.
I'm not terrible at this one, even though I do have days that I never even open my door. Although yesterday I opened my door and it ended with me being stuck in Kentucky for four hours, so maybe I'll rethink this one a bit.

Just kidding, I'll still do it, but I'm wary of crossing any more rivers just in case I can't get back. Either way, I can't get my running in if I don't go outside. And when I do get my running in, that means I can stop going outside for the rest of the day, if I want! Win-win.

Do you use this time of year as a reset? What are you resetting?

Actions Speak Louder

For years, I've not gone to church on Mother's Day, but this year I'm in a "new church, new people, new city... why not?" mood and will be headed out the door in just a few to see if this delightful group of people can remain delightful on this day, my worst day of the year for being in church. (This is not the fault of anyone I've gone to church with in the last few years. This damage was done long ago and I'm just coping as best I can with the residual mess.) I hope it doesn't end with me sitting in the hallway listening to the Next to Normal cast album.

Yesterday, I listened to The West Wing Weekly podcast about the episode I persist in calling "the Ephesians 5:21 episode" but I believe is more properly titled "War Crimes," in which the Bartlets return from Mass with the president complaining bitterly about the sermon being terrible. (A thing I have done a few times in my life, but not the week the minister went to Google images for sermon illustrations and chose an image without checking the source, and it was a still from the soap opera Days of Our Lives. That was a great Sunday.) He says:

Saint Paul begins the passage: "Be subject to one another out of reverence to Christ." "Be subject to one another." In this day and age of 24-hour cable crap, devoted to feeding the voyeuristic gluttony of the American public, hooked on a bad soap opera that's passing itself off as important, don't you think you might be able to find some relevance in verse 21? How to end the cycle? Be subject to one another!

It's fantastic enough to see a character of deep faith on TV. It's even better when he or she articulates that faith in a way that shows the heart of the character. And such a heart is one I'd like to have, a heart that can stop being a narcissist for possibly minutes at a time to consider just how serious the "one another" passages (there are a bunch of them, by the way, should you be looking for something to read) are, to take them to heart and act on them.

I was a bit stuck for an appropriate image for this post, then
ran across this old tweet. So, yeah, more of this and less of the
other stuff.

Being an infertile woman in church on Mother's Day has sucked, by and large, but if I'm going to give the new folks a chance to not be sucky the least I can do is bring a frame of mind that is as much "be subject to one another" as I can possibly manage behind my overly-thick emotional shield that I must carry on this day. Maybe I can take a couple of layers off after today.

A Year in a Life

Y'all. Look what the 5th Avenue Theatre posted for my birthday!



I didn't even get out of bed this morning before I watched it. So fantastic. Bea Corley looks to be a brilliant Mary Lennox. Seattle friends, go see this NOW because it's your last chance!

Anyway. This isn't supposed to be a Secret Garden post. So the day I've been not-looking-foward-to for two years has arrived... I've reached the age that Chadwick got to but never got past.  On my 36th birthday, which was the last we would spend together, he and I talked about the weird feeling I had about arriving, healthy and whole and with every expectation of seeing 37, at the age at which my beloved uncle had died. And then it was less than a year before Chadwick was gone, too, despite his expectations (and indeed, eagerness--he was a bit of an odd one, my Chadwick) of seeing 40. I suppose you could say the death rate is still going strong at 100%.

Thanks, Google.

So I don't know how I feel about it today. My coworker whose office I share (even after three months, I still think of it as her office) also just not-celebrated a birthday, and we've talked a bit the the past week about neither of us really feeling the spirit of getting another year older. I feel, as I always do on this day, the weight of the legacy of sharing my birthday with a grandfather I can't remember (he would have been 85), the joy of a baby cousin who I don't see nearly often enough who now shares this birthday, too (I've lost track of how old she is), and a special kinship with a couple other beloved birthday buddies. (Okay, so one of them is Dulé Hill, who technically isn't "beloved" since he's a complete stranger I just admire when I see his work on TV, but the other one is a high school classmate who welcomed me back to Greenfield last summer with literal open arms and is beloved enough for both herself and a random celebrity, with some left over.)

That paragraph kind of got away from me a bit. I'm leaving it.

But there's an extra weight this year, that at some point in the next few months I'm likely going to cross what was Chadwick's finish line and have to keep going. He woke up in the arms of Jesus before he could get to the magical milestone he was so excited about, the one he was planning to greet like an old friend instead of as a drugery, the one he was already celebrating instead of dreading. And if God grants me another year on this planet to live and love and laugh and grow and be--the least I can do, the very least I can do is greet this year and the next great adventure with the same lightness in my heart.

Even if there are tears today. (There already are. It's ridiculous.) Even if I feel this hole in my heart so keenly as I face another day without him by my side. Even if the road looks long and dark and I'd rather just lay on the ground than carry on. He would not want me to waste a perfectly good year on angst--he'd want me to grab this life with both hands and stretch it in every way I can to make sure I didn't miss any of it. That is the legacy he's left with me. That is a thing that I can do.

Post title was not an intentional reference to "Seasons of Love," but since that works out so nicely, here you go. Maybe I'll make that my theme song for 39. That one or "No Day But Today," which also works well for birthdays. Here on in, I shoot without a script.

X is for Xavier #AtoZChallenge

Join me on the A to Z Challenge: I'll share a different thing from my new home, Cincinnati, every day for 26 days in April.

I was about to skip over X and go to Y. That's twice this challenge I've done that. Clearly, the alphabet and I are having a critical difference of opinion.

Xavier University is one of many institutes of higher learning in Cincinnati--I tried to nail down an exact number, but apparently no one has bothered to count them. (Okay, actually, everyone has bothered to count them, but can't agree on the number.) Basically, if you want to learn things, you're in good shape here.

I read this guy's label, then promptly forgot who he was,
although reason would suggest he's Frances Xavier.
Anyway, he's at the entrance to vaguely gesture at people
as they arrive.

Xavier is a Catholic university, among the oldest in the country, and while I'm wildly out of the loop re: Midwest universities and how they've been getting on in my 20-year absence from the region, Xavier seems to be not too shabby in either academics or athletics. A handful of my coworkers went there, if all one hears is true, so I can at least vouch for some of Xavier's graduates being awesome.

I don't know what this is, but I kind of expect the Doctor
to turn up and point a sonic screwdriver at it.

Their mascot is D'Artagnan, certainly Chadwick's favourite of the Musketeers, which softens my heart toward Xavier already, even if they didn't have excellent bike parking.

But they do! Very well done, Xavier. So, re: the lack of human
activity... this was one of the stops on Susan's (not me; the other one)
Easter Sunday Tour of Cincinnati, but being as it was Easter
the Catholic school was on holiday. It was kind of creepy
wandering around not seeing any students.

Not sure about the presence of any bike lanes nearby, because I didn't look, but if the rest of the city is any indication it's lucky for Xavier students who travel actively that there are nice wide sidewalks surrounding them.

Like the one next to this sign, for instance.

Bellarmine Chapel on campus has a hyperbolic paraboloid roof (note to self: look up those words), so that even even if the walls were to come a-tumbling down, the roof would stay up, which I would call witchcraft except this is a Catholic university, so I'm thinking the roof has its own patron saint. I admit that would be useful to have.

The thing on the front is cool, too. I wonder if it's ever open to the public?

T is for Tyler #AtoZChallenge

Join me on the A to Z Challenge: I'll share a different thing from my new home, Cincinnati, every day for 26 days in April.

The Tyler Davidson Fountain, despite having a gent's name, is actually a lady, also called The Genius of Water. I will say this for Cincinnati: they're very good at giving credit where credit is due for the city's growth and prosperity. First to the pigs, now to the river.

The lights on the fountain change colour a bit. We don't have nine of them.

The Tyler Davidson Fountain is in the middle of the appropriately named Fountain Square, which (if the frequency with which people mention it is any indication) is certainly in the top five of most beloved spots in the city. The fountain was in the opening credits of WKRP in Cincinnati (I remember the show, but I'm pretty sure I remember it in reruns. Also, I just watched the title sequence for the first time in about 30 years and the city hasn't changed a lot).

On one of our three snowy days
last winter. I'm not complaining:
that's exactly the right number
of snowy days.

The fountain has been moved around a bit since her dedication in 1871, and has been in her current location since 2006. She was placed on the National Register in 1979. The water is switched on every spring (after being off for the winter months) in time for the Reds' first home game.

Also on Fountain Square: some nice landscaping, an enormous Christmas tree at Christmastime, an ice skating rink for a few months, a stage the rest of the time, tables and chairs, big signs with all the rules for the plaza. And an alleged bike rack. Seriously, bike parking is listed as an amenity on the Fountain Square website, and they are mistaken.

I think you misspelled "disgrace" on that website, y'all.

But at least there's a Red Bike station just off the square, so all is not lost.

On a chilly but well-lit evening last weekend.

Consider the Lilies

Lent is a good time to start something new. It's a time for refocusing, examining our lives and habits, stopping some things and starting some others. It's a season of renewal.

The good news is, that doesn't have to stop at Easter. In fact, it shouldn't: did this time of refocusing help you? Did you start a new habit that's turned out to be fruitful? Have you made progress on something you've been meaning to cut out of your life? Excellent! Don't turn your back on that progress. There's a beautiful line from An American Victory, "Every season ends that another may begin." Rejoice in how far you've come and begin again today.

Every freaking thing in this city is built on a slant.
I suppose they really had no choice.

About two months ago, construction crews began tearing out and carting off dirt from the empty lot behind my apartment building. Fortunately, I took this photo of some new bulbs sprouting up on top of an old wall just two days before they were all gone. However, some of them didn't go far: a couple of the bulbs, after being cast aside, managed to re-root themselves in the ground and are still growing. Another one clung to just enough soil for roots and leaves to continue to grow, even though it didn't get back into the ground.

I've had my eye on that little clump (I thought it was daffodils, but a gardener on Twitter said it looked more like daylilies) for weeks, watching it hang in there, and thinking to myself, "I should just take it home and put it in a flowerpot." Earlier this week, I noticed that the leaves were starting to look wilty, as if they'd done all they could on their own, and I decided that I'd reached now-or-never time for these tenacious little bulbs. So I pulled back enough of the fence to reach under and grab the root ball, then carried it home in my hand. (And managed to sprinkle some dirt into my lunch bag, as I discovered when I went to take a sip of tea from my thermos and got a mouthful of dirt. Good thing I have a strong immune system.)

So the daffodils-which-are-probably-really-daylilies went from this:

Yes, I willingly dumped dirt onto my kitchen counter.
That's part of the fun here in Su-Land.

 To this:

And then from my kitchen counter to my window, where I hope it will get enough sun to thrive. It's been getting about 10 hours a day of sun in the construction site, and inside my apartment it will probably get about two. Google says they'll grow in any light conditions, so here's hoping... and besides that, we all know bulb plants are long-lasting, hardy creatures.

Jesus himself said, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin," and while he did not add, "and yet a human will pick one up off the side of the road and take it home to be her own," I think the sentiment is there. These are plants that will survive cold and heat, lots of sun or little sun, being tended with loving care in a garden or being tossed aside by large machinery to make way for a parking lot. And if this little slice of creation can take all that and keep going, how much more can we?

"Will it grow?" "It will." 

One of the reasons I feel so passionate about having a strong community is for moments like this lily was having--when I've given all I can find within me and it's still not enough to get through the day, along comes someone who can say, "Let's take these next steps together." I hope you have the same--someone who can offer a hand at just the right time, someone you can call on when your inner reserves are tapped, someone who can plant you into their spare flowerpot. (Okay, so there is such a thing as taking a metaphor too far.)

The season of Lent has come to an end, and I pray it brought you blessing and strength for the season ahead of us now, and a community to sustain you through the times when the inner strength is just not enough. Happy Easter, my friends.

Again and Again and Again and Again

I had my Pandora set to one of my Irish stations at work yesterday and was singing along, as I do, when this song came up. I had to take a break because it came at the end of a long succession of sad songs--the bit about leaving a wife or sweetheart behind gets me every time. But that's okay, because crying at my desk is totally a thing I do now, even if it frightens the coworkers.

"Green Fields of France" is sad from beginning to end, not the least because its message of the never-ending nature of war. Willie McBride's death didn't help every generation since, no matter how badly he may have hoped it would:

But here in this graveyard that's still no man's land
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
And a whole generation were butchered and damned

And I can't help but wonder oh Willy McBride
Do all those who lie here know why they died
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause
Did you really believe that this war would end wars
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
The killing and dying it was all done in vain
Oh Willy McBride it all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again

I learned this song from The High Kings, most likely on PBS, since that's where I tend to see The High Kings, but plenty of Irish bands sing it.



Related to my other interests: Someone's done a Les Misérables version of this song. Yes, please. Also, if you like The High Kings, see an entire show here (I believe this is the one that's usually on PBS).

Become New

It's Daylight Saving, y'all. There's no 's' at the end.

My friend Ruthie, who is a font of wisdom as well as being an appreciative audience for my snark, said to me recently (regarding Lent, but it applies to oh-so-many things): "I love that the opportunity keeps coming around. ... I love that even if you've forgotten New Year's resolutions, you can start again."

You can start again.

The first time I ever went to summer camp (church camp),
this verse was our theme for the week. Thirty years later,
I remember only one other thing from that week: there
was a minor earthquake that rattled the cabin windows,
a thing I hadn't known was possible in Terre Haute,
Indiana. Maybe that's why this verse still has such sway
over my brain.

One of the great things about being on a spinning rock that's hurtling through space is that we have many, many chances to start again. Every 24 hours we get a new day. Every 7 days is a new week. Every 4-ish weeks is a new month. Every 12 months is a new year. And as if that weren't enough, we also have our seasons, our ways of marking time, our endings of one thing and beginnings of another. There's a reason why everyone likes to start a new diet or exercise program on Monday--we love the idea of a fresh slate. Anne Shirley is all of us when she says, “Isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?”

Do yesterday's consequences still follow us into our new todays? Of course, and even though that can be unpleasant, thank goodness for it. You worked hard for that wisdom and insight, and to have to relearn it all again would really suck. But bringing old wisdom into a new day may be the best way to start again.

So I woke up this morning at what was 6 AM just yesterday, not at all ready to see what this season of daylight time will bring but really looking forward to a caffeinated beverage (two cups of English Breakfast, but I'm workin' on three). As I shuffled through my still-dark apartment, now that sunrise has been pushed back a bit, my brain went to the verse that is determined to be my personal theme song, 2 Corinthians 5:17.

We're going to be sleepy for a couple days, anyway, so there's no reason why Daylight Saving Time can't also be the start of something new. What will you do that's new today?

Not So Fast

I think I've finally nailed down my Lent for this year, maybe. We'll see what this week brings. But unless something drastic comes to my attention, I'm ready to go--and only four days after Ash Wednesday. See, I told y'all I'm not an expert at Lent.

There's an adorable line in the Hayley Mills movie The Trouble with Angels, when the two main characters have sneaked off to smoke some cigars Ms. Mills' character found. Her friend says, "I don't think I like them," she responds, "So you have something you hate to give up for Lent," and the friend says, "Good thinking!" Cute for a movie, totally fine attitude for a teen who has not yet come into her own faith. Not really the approach I'm after--and I hope you're not, either.

Image source: freeimages.com.

The nature of this sort of fast isn't just in the abstaining. It's in the replacing. Long before he made the sacrifice that we honor on Good Friday, Jesus reminded his followers that God calls us to mercy. It's not enough to go to the temple and make an offering; it's also about how we treat others when we leave. It's about who I am at work, or at the supermarket, or while riding my bike. In my few extra minutes I find by not doing a thing, am I working to make the world around me brighter? A little kinder, a bit more pleasant to be in? Is everyone I encounter today going to walk away feeling that the world is not so bad, because I managed to put them before myself for a few minutes?

I'm pretty sure the answer is no, because I don't have this life thing figured out yet. But I don't think "goodwill to all" needs to be confined to the Christmas season. I think it properly belongs in Lent, too. There are real hurts, real needs, real problems in the people around us--what a better time to meet those needs than now, when the thoughts of so many turn to sacrifice? It's critical not to get so wrapped up in the giving up that mercy is forgotten. Without the mercy, the sacrifice is meaningless.

And neglecting mercy is an excellent thing to give up for Lent.

Ashes to Ashes

For Ash Wednesday, this is going to be more like a spiritual Sunday-ish post than a Wednesday one, so if that's not what you came for, now's the time to bail. See you tomorrow.

Chadwick died on an Ash Wednesday, which even for him was a pretty odd gesture, but that made it difficult to conjure up any will to observe Lent for a couple years. This year, though, since I've given my life a hard reboot, it's time to rejoin the Christian calendar and see what this new era of Lenten observances will bring.

I searched freeimages.com for "Lent," and what I got was
this, entitled "Spring Church Exterior." I'm not super-
clear what that means, but it's pretty. So I guess this is as
Ash Wednesday of an image as I'm going to get.
Source: George Bosela on freeimages.com.

However, I do want to make it clear at the outset that I am no Lent expert--I started observing Lent as a teenager in an "everybody's doing it" kind of way. I've kinda become the local "expert" anyway for many Evangelical friends who've wanted to jump into Lent over the years, based solely on my experience on this journey that other folks don't have, but everything I know is also available to you via either Google or by diving in and experiencing it yourself. (Although I will add that the first time I read The Sound of Music, at age 20, it changed my view of Lent dramatically. That was the year I started taking it seriously as a tool for spiritual growth.)

One of my "new city" challenges is that I have no idea where there's an Ash Wednesday service near me, and I may not find out before it's too late. (Also? I can walk into anywhere in Texas with ashes on my face and no one will blink. I don't know yet if that's true in Ohio, so I kinda need an after-work service.) But that's a small thing, since I've missed Ash Wednesday service more years than not. Especially when I was still living in my parents' house--I can just imagine the looks on their very Evangelical faces if I walked in with ashes on my forehead. No.

Anyway, I'm here today to help, not reflect on my non-ecumenical upbringing. This FAQ is cobbled together from questions I've been asked often over the years.

1. You do what? But isn't that a Catholic thing? Do you judge people who don't do it?
a) Lent.
b) Yes. Also many other branches of Christendom. You should maybe get out more.
c) No. That would be ridiculous. You do what works for you.

2. Do you have any Lenten resources to recommend?
I don't, although I'm pretty excited about this Arts and Faith series this year. Google, friends. Google.

3. Should I announce my fast on Facebook?
This has been more of a touchy subject than I could possibly have anticipated, but this is what I usually say:

• If you're asking me as a friend who's done this for a while and has some experience of the value of people knowing my fast vs not: then no, you shouldn't.
• If you're asking because you're looking for some accountability, then I'd suggest you find an offline human, or if it must be online, that you approach someone you trust via private message.
• If you're asking because giving up Facebook is your fast and you want to let everyone know where you're going, I'd still suggest not, but you need to do what you think is best if your absence will upset anyone. Again, you can probably do this via private message. (I've gone weeks without visiting Facebook before, and it's a nice exercise in humility when you find out how well that world keeps on turning without your presence in it.)
• If you're asking for spiritual guidance, I refer you to Matthew 6:16-18.

4. Do I have to go meatless on Fridays?
Are you participating in Lent as part of your faith tradition, and if so, does that faith tradition ask you to go meatless? If so, in order to fully participate with your community: yes. If you're creating your own community or going it alone, then you have a bit more leeway to decide which elements of the traditional fast you're going to adopt. More on community anon.

5. Did you know it doesn't really add up to 40 days?
Yes. Sundays don't count as part of the 40 days because Christians celebrate Jesus' resurrection on those days, and that celebration supersedes the mourning/fasting of Lent.

6. Does it matter what I give up?
Yes, it matters, but maybe not in the way you're asking. (And it's okay if you haven't decided yet.) What are you trying to learn from Lent? What areas of your life need growth? Think about that and let that shape your fast. Also keep in mind that your fast, if it's helping you learn/grow, may not be something you want to stop at Easter. You can absolutely use these six weeks as a starting block.

This is the thing about Lent that tends to get me the most angry/corrective comments, to be honest, for a couple reasons:

• Some folks are under the impression that people only give up sins that they should have already been trying to remove from their lives. Now, if Lent helps you do that, I'm not about to tell you not to. Six weeks of focused intent may be you push you need to finally deal with that thing that's been nagging at you. But that doesn't have to be what you do, and I agree that only avoiding a spiritual stumbling block for six weeks per year is maybe not the ideal approach, if it's true life change you seek.
• There are others who will say that giving up chocolate or TV or whatever is silly. Pope Francis made some incredibly relevant and thought-provoking comments on that very subject a couple years back. Here's the thing: It's not so much what you're giving up; it's what you replace it with. If you give up Facebook and replace it with a TV show, then maybe pause to ask yourself what you're trying to accomplish. If you give up caffeine and replace it with being unbearable for the entire month of March, you may not be sharing the peace of Christ with others quite as much as you intended.

7. What if I don't start on Ash Wednesday or fizzle out by the end?
It happens. That's why the Israelites prayed, "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." (That's Lamentations 3:22-23.) Choose your favourite cliché for making a new beginning every day, and go do it.

8. What else do I need to know?
Get in there and do it, and be open to what changes in you. If you have a community to do this with, by all means, embrace that community whole-heartedly and do this together. God has placed you in a community for good reason, and fasting together as a shared experience can multiply your joys and divide your struggles. Do not neglect your community this Lent. Embrace them.

No community to share with? Having to do this alone? I hear ya. We can be Lenten Twitter buddies, if you like (send me a Tweet or a DM to let me know that we're doing this, though, because "become a mind reader" is not what I'm doing for Lent). Growth and joy can still happen even on a solitary journey, so don't despair.

Have a blessed Lenten season, friends.