Why Lent? Why not. Last year I was working on the second draft of the novel that will become my fourth release from Kensington, Bless Her Heart, and the Lenten season gave me an idea to punch up the story I was writing. I already knew that my preacher’s wife was going to sample each of the Seven Deadly Sins, but what if she also gave up church for Lent? That lead to this scene:
By this point in the Ash Wednesday service the minister had moved on to Matthew. He droned on about “not looking somber as the hypocrites do” while we fasted. Finally, we got to sit down, and the sermon began. Dour-faced Reverend Ford spoke about the traditions of Lent, the excesses of Fat Tuesday as exemplified by Mardi Gras—that actually sounded fun. He admonished his flock to make sacrifices that would bring them closer to God but pointed out that sometimes it was better to add something to your routine rather than to just give something up. He talked about his preteen daughter giving up soft drinks and how his wife vowed to get up fifteen minutes earlier each day for a devotion.
In essence, we were to find something that hampered us for being the best person we could be and to either add something to address it or to give something up if it held us back. If you drank too much, then give up alcohol. If television kept you from your family, then give that up. If you were unhappy about your physical health, add an exercise regime. The sky was the limit, he said, as long as we examined ourselves and looked at what was holding us back and keeping us from being the person God intended us to be.
Maybe Chad should look into giving up profligate spending and adultery.
No, I needed to think about myself. Not Chad. Chad would mean nothing to me just as soon as I could figure out how to divorce him. I needed to think on myself and what I needed to do because Liza was right: I wasn’t happy.
What could I give up—or add—for Lent? My husband? Nah, he’d taken himself away. Having a baby? That had been taken from me, too. Chocolate? Too trivial in comparison to the other two. What was something I had too much of, something that made me unhappy because it wasn’t good for me. Something—
The word came to me as if the Lord himself had whispered it, but I knew that couldn’t be the case. Why would God tell me to give up church? That made absolutely no sense. Of course, church did remind me of Chad, and I needed to stop thinking about him so it made sense in a crazy, weird sort of way.
Come to think of it, Chad hadn’t believed in Lent or giving things up. He said that was something Catholics did.
Heck, if Chad thought it was a bad idea, then maybe it was the absolute best idea for me.
If I still missed God after forty days, I could always come back to the fold. Maybe I could even find a different fold, one that better suited me. Having the bank foreclose on Love Ministries might end up being one of the best things to ever happen to me because now I was forced to look for another job and, goodness knew, I hadn’t been doing anything more than stumble through life the past few years.
But giving up church? That’s so. . . wrong.
And what has doing all of the right things done for you?
We’ve just begun Lent, an interesting religious ritual that I’d never really heard of until I started attending the Wesley Foundation at the Unversity of Tennessee. This concept of giving something up was completely new. And daunting. Over the years I’ve given up Cokes, alcohol, desserts. One year—and that was the most painful—I made myself get up 15 minutes earlier than the required time. The idea was to read from a devotional. If I couldn’t do that, at least I had made myself get up instead of hitting the snooze button. I’d love to tell you that habit stuck, but it did not. (It did, you will note from the excerpt, give me a trait that I could give to another character, though. Poor thing.)
This year I’m fasting from social media. When I kinda got meaner than I should have on Fat Tuesday then I knew it was time to take a break. In my defense, I don’t have time for anyone who is mean to my friends. I am not here for that. Either way, I’m pretty sure Jesus didn’t want me to call people delusional on the Book of Face. Even if the person in question clearly is. Wait. What? Did I say that? Clearly I need to atone some more.
At any rate, if you don’t see me on Twitter or Facebook, it’s because I’m allowing myself only 30 minutes a day. I think my mental health is improving a little. Besides, it gives me more time to write my Congresspeople.
Now, here is my challenge for you: what is something you can write about that others might not think about? Ever thought about having a book center on Lent? Or the Cokesbury Hymnal? Or death by fire ants? Or a funeral home? Is there anything that you know a little something about that would bring a unique perspective to what you write? Readers, help us out and tell us about some of the most unique premises you have come across.
Oh, and my husband’s dreams of being my houseboy would be dashed if I didn’t mention that Bless Her Heart is now available for preorder at
soon to be FoxTale, the keepers of the shot glasses