Lord, protect us in our struggle against evil.
As we begin the discipline of Lent,
make this day holy by our self-denial.
Grant this through our Lord Jesus Christ, Your Son,
who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit,
one God, forever and ever. Amen.

Fasting and Penance Today

I just spent waaaaaaay too much time doing this. But of course that means I have to share the results. Waste your precious time, I mean make your own magazine cover here.

Now I will go make lunch.

Prayer
Do I devote enough time to my relationship with God in the course of my day? Or do I make excuses and find distractions? What one part of my daily routine will I focus on in order to make more time for regular prayer? Will I get up fifteen minutes earlier? Will I make baby’s nap time prayer time instead of “my” time? Will I turn off the television in the evening? Or keep the radio turned off in the car?

Fasting
Is there some physical comfort or indulgence to which I am overly attached? Food? Sleep? Long hot showers? Do I excuse my attachment as something I “deserve?” What one attachment will I focus on in order to further detach myself from wordly pleasures?

Almsgiving
Do I consider the wealth in my possession my own? My money? My material goods? My talents? Do I share enough of the wealth God has entrusted to me? Or do I share just enough to not feel guilty? Do I expect public thanks and recognition for my donations and charitable acts? Do I feel that people “owe” me after I help them? In what one particular way will I focus on giving and anonymous generosity?

Mama: No complaints, please. Just compliance.

My copy of The Catholic Homeschool Companion edited by Maureen Whittmann arrived this past weekend and though I had already read it, it was a real treat to hold it in my hands and browse through it at a leisurely pace. Especially valuable, in my opinion, are the impressive essays written by “graduated” homeschooled students themselves as they reflect back on their experience. Do yourself a favor- check this out!

I have crossed over to the other side. I didn’t even know it until the other day when I was flipping through a secular women’s magazine (something I rarely do). An ad caught my eye. It was the kind of ad I never used to notice at all. I didn’t used to notice ads like these because they didn’t speak to me.

But this ad did speak to me. It said, “Wouldn’t you like to reverse the signs of aging?” and “Wouldn’t you like to reduce the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles?”

I spoke back. “Yes, I would,” I said. “I would like to reverse the signs of aging and reduce the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles.”

And after studying the flawless face of the fourteen year old model pictured next to a jar of wrinkle cream, I was convinced: This was the stuff for me. Even days later, finding out that reversing the signs of aging and reducing the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles would set me back about $14 an ounce did not dissuade me.

I hesitated only briefly. Hmmmmm… $14. That’s a jumbo-pak of diapers.

But in the end, age-defying beauty was what I desired and age-defying beauty was what I would have. I bought the stuff. And immediately upon returning home I felt compelled to confess the purchase to my husband. After all, I did not want him to become alarmed when after 11 ? years of marriage his wife became a youthful hottie overnight.

Dan is sweet, of course. He told me I am beautiful just as I am and that I don’t need magic potions. Mostly, I think he found my extravagance amusing. That’s fine. I happen to think it’s funny that he spends dozens of dollars on assorted packages of drill bits that just pile up, unopened, in his tool box. Some things spouses just tolerate in quiet amusement.

Now comes the hard work of applying my magic lotion morning and night. So far, I haven’t noticed much of a difference, but no worries. I have the patience of an old woman. And besides, this morning as I squinted into the mirror at the non-existent results, I figured that perhaps the whole wrinkle problem might be resolved if I just don’t buy the pair of old lady glasses I have begun to suspect I might need.

And Jesus said to them, “Can the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them? As long as they have the bridegroom with them, they cannot fast. The days will come, when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast in that day.”
Mark 2:19-20

Prepare us, Lord, for our time of fasting.

Some mothers laugh about parents who become emotionally involved in their children’s sporting events. I used to be one of those. But that was before I actually attended one of Eamon’s basketball games a few weeks ago.

Early in game, I heard some obnoxious woman screeching, “Wooooooooo!… Go, Baby! That’s my kid!” I turned around to raise an eyebrow at her and was alarmed to discover that the offending party was me.

I resolved to keep quiet. I didn’t want to embarrass the family. But how could my heartless husband remain so calm? I sat tensely, clutching the hapless baby in my lap. When some bully of a child (just when exactly did they begin allowing 16 year olds to play fourth grade basketball?) elbowed my son, only in my head did I shout things like, “Yo, ref! Where’s the foul?!” I think.

Thankfully, Eamon’s coach happens to be a woman with even more “team spirit” than I. And fewer inhibitions. God bless her. She spoke for us all.

Toward the end of the game, the score was close. A frail-looking child on the other team was fouled and went to the line to shoot two free throws. He looked nervous and small standing in front of the packed gymnasium. I knew I had a serious problem when I found myself willing, just willing the poor child to miss. Just miss, kid. Miss. What kind of person am I?

Today is the final day of the boys’ basketball program and this morning’s events include a skills competition. I know it would be a shame to have any unsportsmanlike behavior, hair-pulling, or crying over prizes awarded.

So. I am staying home.