Lent 3: today’s the day

Well, Lent day 3 and I am cutting it close to the wire on this one.

Sitting on my couch tonight cause I’ve been benched by allergies, and I’m going to go ahead and blame those allergies for my slightly damp eyes watching Nashville.

I was planning to write today a little more about what I was processing yesterday, but today is almost over and that’s not how I’m spending the rest of it.  So, instead I’ll pass along a little wisdom that my mom shared with me today.  Sometimes moms are trying to tell you how to live your life and they give you wisdom that makes you roll your eyes, and then down the line you realize they were right.

Lent 2: love?

I read a psychology article the other day discussion the components that psychologists have identified that make up this thing we call love. There are three:

  1. ‘Intimacy’ – this is the knowing-ness part of love: how much you feel comfortable, safe and known by the other person.  It increases with time and depth and familiarity: the more you can predict what the other person will do.
  2. ‘Passion’ – this is the intensity part, the draw, the attraction.  It is higher the more unpredictable something is (since dopamine is released in your brain MOST when things are unpredictable).


Well, welcome to Lent.

I am not a Lent person.  I grew up in an Atheist/Catholic hybrid home, so I have fond (NOT) memories of Lent being the time where I was supposed to prove I belonged to the Catholic side by being forced to give up something good and I never really understood why.  As a result, I still don’t like it.  I have residual feelings of Lent being about reluctant (dragged-kicking-and-screaming) ‘sacrifice’. If you weren’t reluctant, it was because you were an angel-child and it made you a hero.  If you were reluctant, you were selfish.

So, sometimes, that’s how judgey-me feels about Lent.

The gift of lost luxury

I don’t know what to share on this blog these days.

I  don’t have a ton of time right now. Two jobs.  A pilot study.  An internship. Full time school.  Writing is just having to take a back seat for a season. I’ve assumed, that’s why these pages have stayed relatively empty, but, if I’m honest – there’s another problem: I don’t know what to say anymore.

There is a luxury I have lost. It is the luxury of sharing opinions publicly that never threaten your closest community because they all agree with you. 

The end of a story

Her brain fell into the habitual and familiar pattern of scanning, seeking, searching through the vault in her mind for possible solution. But all it came up with was an unfamiliar emptiness. When everything fails what is left to do? Some action must be taken, even if it is the action of failure.

With a brisk quick brush of her hands, before she could reconsider, she dropped the last of the gunpowder residue to the ground and let it take with it her last plan, their last option for salvation.