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My mother was raised in the Roman Catholic faith. As a result, our family observed various religious practices from her tradition: fish on Fridays, Rosary prayers and, of course, “giving up something for Lent.” I can’t remember many of the things I promised God and my mother I would try do without for those six weeks, only that our individual Lenten self denial was a regular component of dinner time conversation. “How are you doing with your Lenten vow?” my mother would ask her three children.  She seemed content to hear that we were going along on the right trajectory. “Fine, mom,” we would say. And that was that.

One year I decided to go six weeks without candy which, apparently, is beyond my capability. The interesting thing about making a promise is that once it has been broken, it becomes easier and easier to break.  Soon, one resigns oneself to the promise not being all that important in the first place. Our wants and needs supersede the relevance of the promise or how realistic such an expectation was in the first place. That particular Lent, I fell off the wagon and I fell hard. It was only a matter of time before my mother found out.  After all, candy wrappers and boys’ pockets have a long standing relationship.

I tried to defend myself. “Why does God care if I have candy?” I said. My mother, in her wisdom, said it wasn’t God who cared as much as that this mattered to me, that our relationship with God is so firm that doing something for God really is doing it for lives. I recall her saying something like, “Trying to keep a promise, to make a small sacrifice, helps us be ready when the time comes that we are called upon to make a greater sacrifice.” So, I finished out the season without candy. Easter Sunday was all the sweeter for it literally.

I’m not sure what, if anything, I’ll give up this Lenten season. I have been thinking lately about worry and complaint. There are plenty of things in this life and in this world to worry about. It is easy to be overwhelmed by news of the latest disaster, crisis or gloomy forecast. And, so as to avoid misunderstanding, I need to acknowledge that there are plenty of people who have good reason to complain. These are difficult times. And while I have little to complain about, it is hard for me to stay out of the gravitational pull of such pervasive anxiety and not to worry about what the future holds. Here is what I have learned of worry and complaining: Worrying about some things can rob me of finding joy in anything. Complaining about great things, those things I cannot control, can cause me to miss the chance to help in small ways, in ways and places where my presence and participation matter.

So, I’m mulling over the idea of giving up worry and complaining for Lent. I can’t guarantee I won’t slip up.  There is bound to be an empty candy wrapper or two along the way. As I’ve said, I’ve been known to break my Lenten vow. Whatever promise I make, I will do my best and will rely on grace to make up the distance between my serious flaws and shortcomings and God’s perfect love which casts out all fear.

Peace, Duayne