Why start in mid January what you can put off until Lent?

In addition to prayer, alms giving and fasting – I’m planning a resolutionary Lent.

I missed the opportunity to seize my few planned resolutions for the New Year since the kids and I were sick in bed the week before, during and after the clock struck midnight. Two weeks into January, I didn’t have the wherewithal to tackle the self-improvement tasks I had intended since I was in a semi-scramble trying to make up for all the lost time, deadlines, projects and whatnot that the flu dutifully mangled.

I’m all about Lenten sacrifices, and for some reason (like my personality), I continue to add sacrifices in the form of projects as the season progresses. And, I generally over-do it. In years past, I’ve gotten rid of 40 bags of stuff. Twice. Written 40 letters for life. Taken care of 40 menial tasks (the little fixes that never seem to get done) – all while leading a prayer group, doing Lenten activities with the kids and checking off “pray more” on my mental to-do list for the season.

No matter what, I feel like I end up conquering Lent. And here I am again: planning to add a resolution (or two or three).

I need to tackle these resolutions to yield a little more quiet time with the Lord for a more spiritually productive holy season. This approach is ripe with sacrifice for me since most of these improvements appear no where on my oh-isn’t-this-fun list. I am motivated to embrace these changes for the sake of his sorrowful passion. (Even though some I should be doing for my own well-being – I know my weaknesses and thank God for his strength.)

My most ridiculous resolutionary sacrifice is in the form of coffee. (No. I am not giving up coffee. I’m pretty sure I’m still called to function.)

Where’s my coffee, Dahling?

I am blessed to have a dear spouse who wakes me every day by bringing me coffee. (Yes. Pity me.)

Not too terribly long ago, I was a normal person who woke to an alarm. But over the past couple years, the protocol is that Richard makes me coffee (in a French press and with frothed milk, no less), and brings it to my bedside. As much as I appreciate this (and oh golly I do!), I really need to get up on my own and not be dependent on this glorious gesture. I need to seize the day – not be eased into it. He can still make me coffee (and I hope he does), but I need to re-learn how to get up outside of this ritual. There’s no consistency in the timing. Which I need. Some mornings, I’m awake and stay put in bed, waiting for that cup of coffee. I almost feel (gasp) entitled to that coffee in bed. Which is ridiculous. (Who am I? Zsa Zsa Gabore? “Thank you, Darling?”) Giving this up really is a sacrifice – because, I so love the sweet thought behind it. But it’s also a resolution – because self-improvement will come from this change. I don’t intend to go back to the practice after Easter, and I resolve to readily seize the day and offer the fruits it brings to the Lord.