Andy Carpenter is a native Wisconsinite who also has spent time living in Pennsylvania, Missouri, Australia and now Hilton Head Island. He graduated from the University of Missouri in 2009, and has been known to moonlight as a copy editor, bartender, pirate, rowing coach and Green Bay Packers fan. | My fallback for Lent was always to give up sweets.
Not all the “sweets,” of course; that would be much too daunting. Usually just one subgenre of sweets, one sweet I could easily replace with another sweet — maybe an ice cream, a cookie, the ambitious yet cliched chocolate — for 40 days and nights before the Great Sweets Binge that is Easter.
But now, as an adult, dropping a sweet for Lent seems like less of a worthwhile endeavor. I was raised Catholic but have since moved away from the more organized realms of spirituality; still, the custom of giving up of something cherished for Lent has been one I’ve kept up with.
I’ve seen people take the symbol of sacrifice as a personal test of faith, forsaking social media or their favorite condiment (folks can get oddly attached to these) in the name of Lent. Others use it as a second chance on a New Year’s resolution or an excuse to diet when they’re too bashful to say so. No matter what is given up, the exercise results in an effort to become a better person, at least once said person has moved past the point where “vegetables” and “homework” are desired targets.
Which brings me back to sweets. I couldn’t imagine that going a month and a half without a cookie is going to do anything to further galvanize my character, and if there’s some sort of doughnut threshold to get into heaven, I surely eclipsed that a long time ago. This year, sweets were off the table.
I looked into past years’ sacrifices for inspiration. As a freshman in high school, I gave up pants for an entire year (mild winter, lots of cargo shorts and exposed, cherubic shins), but that was more about attention than anything else. There also were a number of years when I forgot about Lent until after Ash Wednesday, thus forcing me to check back through my day to ensure I didn’t give up anything I’d already done — including, of course, procrastination.
The past being no help, I started to get desperate for ideas. There are places I spend too much time — the Internet, my car, the couch — but I couldn’t conceivably give them up without having to quit driving to work or sitting down.
Then I got a Words With Friends notification on my phone. I spent the next half hour deciding that “weight” was the correct play. I scored 39 points.
During that half hour, I paid no attention to the outside world. Nor, I realized, did I pay attention the time I stayed up until 2 a.m. because I was justhisclose to a high score in Fruit Ninja. And think of those poor souls who have to listen to a chorus of “Mhmm … mhmm … *damn pigs* … mhmm” if Angry Birds demands my attention during a call/conversation/what am I turning into?
Would sacrificing smartphone games be difficult for me to do? Yes — my WWF partners likely won’t understand. Would it force me to be a better communicator? Sure. And spend my time on something more useful? What, you mean, like, books? Yes! Books are great.
And so, I knew what to give up for Lent. Sweet.