My Lenten Sacrifice er Opportunity!

   So. Do you do Lent?  Do you pick something to give up for a chunk of time in these last few days of winter? Although I was baptized into a faith that celebrates this season I was raised by skeptical parents who were highly offended by the midieval disciplinary methods used in the parochial school my sister attended and before I was old enough to have an opinion our family joined the ranks of the non-church going secular Americans of the post-war decades.

Mama was certainly a spiritual person - I am sure she was a closet Druid - but if you got too interested in the philosophy of being good - rather than the obedience to parents aspect - you were going to be teased by Daddy who invariably called you Sister Mary Margaret.

So my spirituality went deep inside and shivered in anxiety about dying "before I waked and my soul not getting taked" by the big guy upstairs. Lordy the nights I went to bed terrified I wasn't going to wake up and maybe there would be burning pits of hell licking at my feet.

Fortunately I became a naughty teenager and my dad had a heart attack and suddenly Church and God and Religion and Convent Schools didn't look so bad to him so off I was packed to what turned out to be a wonderful school with kind and liberal teachers who married late 60's philosophy to ancient church doctrines and presented it to this particular teenager in a way that met her spiritual needs. I'm not sure how many Other Girls are wracked with the oft blamed Catholic Guilt but I loved my experience at the convent and hold it close to me still - even if I do it all in my own way - heavily influenced by my Druid mama.

And one of the rituals I love from those long ago years of formal religion is the ritual of Lent. Totally untutored in the doctrine, I believe I understand the intent - which may once have been a primitive way of helping the unlettered get through those last few weeks of near famine that would have been a 12th century February - but certainly now is an opportunity - in this secular, high-tech, over fed, multi-tasking, frivolous era - an opportunity to stop what you are doing, consider the consequences of your actions, identify something that is unnecessary and let it leave your life - even if only for 40 days.

Usually I pick something of a gustatory nature. One year it was to give up Diet Pepsi - which I successfully did but in such a bad spirit, with so much grumbling, that I realized I had done more damage to my soul than anything. I tried that again the next year with a better spirit and came to understand how valuable taking the spirit of the Lenten sacrifice into your heart truly is. It's not a sacrifice - it's an opportunity!  Wow!

So this year I looked around at my life with an eye to the frivolous - the disrespectfully wasteful and identified my target - the iPad matching game apps that suck up minutes and even hours of my time - time that could be used for things that would make me Feel So Good. In my case it's prayer and meditation - two names for the same action of becoming quiet and going within to listen to The Voice. I call it God - and I am utterly convinced that He doesn't care what I call it. But it is easy to blast through life saying "yes yes. I hear you. be back in a sec. let me finish ________________"  and you can fill in the blank.  But at the end of my life I know He's going to say "Come here, sit down beside me and tell me about yourself. What did you do with the life I gave you?"

and  honestly - I don't want to tell Him I spent 10998723487120348045 minutes playing matching games on an iPad. I'd so much rather be able to say "oh - remember that great prayer/conversation we had in 2015? That made me feel so good and helped me do good.  Thanks!"

So the plan is to delete all the games on my iPad and every time I feel the urge to pick up that little plastic slate and tap away, I will instead stop and get quiet and go to my praying place - that spot deep inside me - and have a chat.

Bye Bye January - Hello February

Can you believe it? A month of 2015 has fled behind us and now it is  Valentine Month.  Well, of course I know you can believe it - it happens every year. But somehow, though I do many things that cause me to look at calendars, it seems like a surprise to feel the days lengthen, the cold strengthen and the calendar page flip over.

And I am HEARTILY glad to bid January goodbye. (It's my blog. I can be as punny as I want) Mind now, this January is not anything like the bleak gloomy stretch of coldness that last January was - but it had it's own collection of anxiety creating burdens. I knew it was going to be a demanding month and clung tightly to my mantra word for 2015:



And what do you know - everything has turned out just fine. I'm all ready to jump into




And not just because of the chocolates and flowers thing. I am just ready to get going. It almost feels like New Year's Day to me since I am finished with DOOTY and ready to be CREATIVE! But first, ThePrince and I took a last day of January trip to my favorite tourist town in the world - Colonial Williamsburg.

I have loved this place since the first time I ever saw it - way back in Miss Cassida's 4th grade. I was a romantic little history lover anyway and cherished my history book more than anything that crossed my desk that year. I dreamed of being a little colonial girl in a bouffant skirt with a mob cap and apron. I longed to run up and down a dirt street with a hoop and a stick and when I found an old bicycle wheel lying about I did just that - though on tar roads since we lived in the Chesterfield suburbs of Richmond.

Throughout the 80's and 90's and even into the 00's I was a regular visitor to CW but once Marcel Desaulniers, The Death by Chocolate Guy, sold The Trellis, somehow going to CW had lost a bit of its glamour, its excitement. Imagine my delight when I discovered just yesterday (?!?!) that he's opened up a new restaurant - Mad About Chocolate - in my happy place!

But I digress.

What really struck me yesterday was how HAPPY I was to be walking down Duke of Gloucester Street again. How much it felt like coming home. How it reminded me of the time I was in Bath, England and stepped up on the square in front of Bath Abbey - and burst into tears - because my bones, my soul, remembered that place. It's a sort of quake that shakes you from your shoulders to your legs - that sense of knowing - of being back in a familiar place. It was a surprise in Bath because I had not ever been there before. It was a warm reminder yesterday, because I already knew I was in a beloved place. And I do not care if it's mostly recreated. I do not care. I do not hear you. La La La. Colonial Williamsburg is my alter home. So there.    

The intention was to dine at The Old Chickahominy House Restaurant but we were naive enough to think we could pop in on a January Saturday and find a table.  That wasn't happening so we decided we'd go back on a week day ... after we'd called and made a reservation.  Instead we went to the Japanese restaurant back on Old Richmond Road where I ate way (way) too many calories - I did not know you could get deep fat fried sushi. My Bad. They're Good.

And after that, ThePrince and his TheQueen hoofed it into the old part of town and walked all around in the chilly winter air. And we talked. And we laughed. And we reminisced. And we just had an all round fantastic time.

And I vowed that I was going to get a season pass and come back enough times to make it a deal instead of an expense. Because I love me some Colonial Williamsburg. It has my permission to capture me and hold me prisoner.

As we headed back to the car, the very sky promised me I would be welcome back, with a sun dog, above the rooftops of William and Mary. Yes.  I will be back.