The kids noticed right away that my husband and I were not doing some of the things that we usually do every day, and were doing some new things instead. And yes, it was hard not to notice the cross of ashes on my forehead. Of course they asked why. I tried to explain why our church observes Lent, and why a lot of us choose to give up some things, and add new things, in our daily routines. “It’s making a sacrifice of something we like,” I told them, “to bring us closer to Jesus before we celebrate his resurrection at Easter.” It seemed an inadequate explanation, but it was the best I could do on the fly, as we rushed to get homework and violin practice done, before packing lunches and reading the next chapter of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets together at bedtime. By the next day, my Lenten disciplines were in a way bringing me closer to Jesus, but maybe even closer to punching a total stranger. Continue reading “Fasting Toward a Fistfight”
My friend Sarah and I just went to see Bridget Jones’s Baby. If you have any affection for the previous films and/or the books (though I know this film deviates wildly from the latest book), I highly recommend it. I found it delightful. But then, Bridget and I are old friends. And it filled me with all sorts of conflicting emotions to see her getting older, knowing that I’m getting older, too. For the past 15 years or so, I’ve identified strongly with Bridget. She was a “singleton,” like me. When I first discovered her, I was in my 20s, and still hoping to be married before I was 30. But as the years flew by, I soon found that I was older than Bridget in either of the movies (which I watched countless times) and still a singleton.