Take the Long Way Home

I’m a bit of a perfectionist.  While you might think this means that everything I do is perfect (like my house is always clean and I’m always on the ball with my homeschooling), it often means just the opposite.  Because I want things to be perfect, I avoid attempting things that I know won’t turn out perfect.  Like my house - if I don’t have enough time and energy to do a thorough cleaning, I do nothing.  Eventually someone (me or my husband) finally says, Enough already! and starts cleaning.  Because I know this about myself I try to remind myself that it doesn’t matter if it all gets done, just do part of it.  A clean kitchen and messy family room is better than a messy kitchen AND a messy family room.  This also applies to blogging….  I love my blog, but I hesitate to come here because I want to work through the perfect post before I hit publish.  I want it to be something worth coming back to read later, something that I have researched and can defend to possible commenters (those of you that read my sporadic blogging will find this funny because I don’t get many comments!), I want it to be something that is “important’.  But what this really accomplishes is that I never blog!  I never really work out what I might be thinking through because it’s not polished.  I’ve tried a couple times to come here and just post random thoughts that I think I’ll come back and work through, but even this is very sporadic.  Well, I’ve made a Lenten resolution - I”m going to come here at least a couple times a week, even if I have nothing to say.  You might be wondering what  in the world that resolution has to do with Lent, but for me it is a mortification.  In fact, probably the most mortifying thing I can think of.  To put myself in front of others with nothing to say.   

So I’m asking forgiveness up front - forgive me if you come by and I’m rambling on about nothing, I’m trying to form the habit of blogging more consistently.  I’m not sure what in the world will come out, but I’m hoping it will allow me to take the time to think out loud.  I’ll also ask forgiveness from those of you from the Spitfire Grill because I plan to shamelessly carry on conversations with myself that started there.  Forgive me if I quote you without your permission.  

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday and a fast day.  In the Western rite, and especially in America, we have very few restrictions.  Simply, no meat, and only one full meal with a couple of snacks.  How hard is that? 

Apparently, for me, it’s very hard.  I am constantly amazed at how soft I am.  I am so incredibly spoiled that to miss, what for me, is essentially one meal (I’m not a big breakfast eater) is nie unto impossible.  I was miserable all day.  All I could think about was how hungry I was.  And I couldn’t have been that hungry!  I ate my two snacks, and ate my full meal at 4:45, because I just couldn’t wait any longer.  What bugged me all day was the knowledge that it’s not that unusual for me to get really busy and forget to eat.  I can be involved in a project or out shopping and not eat all day because I just plain don’t think about it.   But then I went to Mass and began to think about something else entirely…

We were handed little packages as we walked into the door, and as we got there pretty early I had some time in the pew before Mass started to look at what it was (yes, I spent some time in prayer when I first got into the pew, don’t completely throw me over just because I’m lazy and spoiled and can’t fast properly; we were really early!)  They were for Operation Rice Bowl.  While my son put together the little folding “bowl”, I read this…

“When we fast, we act in solidarity with the hungry around the world.”

It never once occured to me, all day, to think about the poor.  It never once occured to me that people all over the world are hungry all the time, every day.  I only thought of myself.  I resolved to add one more little thing to my lenten routine - one meal a week will be of the very simple variety - a reminder to us that we live in luxury compared to the rest of the world (one of those lessons I keep forgetting because I spend too much time looking around me at how much more luxurious my neighbors are than I am), and a reminder that those people need our prayers, and our money, and maybe even our time.