You ain’t Catholic-er than me

The above title is meant to be sung to this link. I find it catchy in a sassy sort of holy way. Or not.
I love Lent. Call me a full on Jesus nerd, but I do. For reasons that really have nothing to do with church I love this season. It signifies change, the concept that winter will soon be ending and when it does there will be hidden eggs, pretty baskets and yummy jelly beans. This is how I thought of it as a child and it just hasn’t faded or evolved for me. I know it should. I should be thinking about all the people who have not right now and pursuing ways I can give them my haves to atone for their nots. And up until this very year this has been my approach to Lent. A sort of, “Well, I will psuedo give up coffee for the next forty days so that I can better enjoy Easter morning when the kids wake up squealing because their are delights abound for them.” The thing is is that I don’t drink coffee so giving it up is no big deal. It’s a win-win and it makes me feel all good and shiny in my Catholicism, as if by letting go of my non-addiction to caffeine I am making the world a better place.
For some reason this year there seems to be a new sheriff in the driver’s seat because I have taken an entirely different approach to Lent. This year I have given up one of my most favorite things in the world: my evening drink. I love many things in my life but I do have to ‘fess up that a drink in the evening is up there at the top. Because really, if one were to stop and think about my existence here in this house where I live with my mother with my three children and my crazy job where I teach preschoolers, isn’t that enough to merit a nightly drink without a heaping helping of guilt to my alcoholic family tree? Apparently not. For some reason last week I lost all desire for it. On Ash Wednesday of all days I lost my urge. I know this isn’t the same as spending the better part of February pondering what I can cut from my life in order to understand sacrifice. I get it. But hell if I won’t use it to bask in my shiny Catholic light of purity and righteousness. And so when I say you ain’t Catholic-er than me, it’s true. I am winning Lent. And isn’t that the true spirit of this holiest season? Or does it mean I am on the fast track to hell?