Giving Up the Giving Up

Born a religious mutt---my father was Catholic, my mother Southern Baptist---the bloodhound in me has always sought a spirituality wherein I can practice with poignance. The season of Lent, with its annual appeal to elective abstinence offers superlative opportunity.

Too many years, Ash Wednesday's page in the DayPlanner has flipped to front and center with woefully inadequate pre-game deliberation. Shrove Tuesday's two-minute warning bell sounds, and lazily I fall back on my Old Faithfuls of "no chocolate," "no hootch," "no salty language." Sure, all are less-than-ideal personal shortcomings that occasionally segue into gluttony, but does the fleeting few days of deprivation draw me any closer to God? Even a single accidental lapse leaves an aftertaste of full-season failure.

What of the philosophically appealling, less restrictive, more pro-active "Do the Right Thing" approach? Take up exercise. Volunteer. Read the Bible daily. Eat healthier foods---after all, New Year's Eve resolutions tend to be history by winter's end. Even so, the idea of inserting a post-Mardi Gras call to self-improvement seems a bit too convenient. To me, the strategic scheduling of a decision to go do-gooder becomes temptingly more self-congratulatory than Christ-serving.

So what's my Lenten answer? What effort is worthy of my 40-day, pre-Easter endeavor?

This year, I'm going to seek. I'm going to listen. I'm going to acknowledge. I'm going to celebrate.

And for good measure, I'll do it all without Diet Coke.