The sense of despair about how lame I am after this many Lents as a Catholic.
Twenty two years a Catholic, and I snivel to myself that I can’t have yogurt. Really, mammal?
It is just yogurt. Well, and all that other stuff, but it’s the yogurt that really stings. Getting up at six is a cake walk compared to the yogurt. Did I tell you that I eat 11 percent fat yogurt and whipped cream out of a bowl? Yup.
But I gave up dairy for Lent because I’ve been sick so much. I can’t do His work as well as He would like if I’m sick all the time. So I do it for Him. I don’t think it matters much to Jesus what time I get up, but it doesn’t matter, because if I do it for Him, my little offering, my little suffering, He can make it something spectacular.
He makes me spectacular. He anoints my head with oil and makes me sparkle.