Ash Wednesday. I got up in the morning and decided to fast until dinner after reading that this was the practice of earlier Christians. Since I'm quite conscious of Muslims now and know they fast for Ramadan from sunrise to sundown, I figured it was the least I could do for Ash Wednesday was to fast for one day. On the way to work, in the spirit of the practice I did know about Lent—giving up something during those forty days as a form of self-sacrifice—I randomly decided to give up listening to the radio on my commute to work in the morning. This would mostly knock out National Public Radio. (How was I supposed to know the Japanese earthquake and tsunami would hit right after and the temptation to find out what was happening would be too great to overcome?) But on that first Wednesday, I completed the readings and prayer of repentance. On the way to work I listed to a tape—yes, that's an actual tape. My car has a tape player!--of the Bible and thought about going to an Ash Wednesday service during my lunch hour at a Lutheran Church near my work location in Mahwah. I was unsure if the Lutherans put ashes on your forehead or not. I kind of hoped they would, but then I saw guy at work with them on and wasn't so sure I really wanted ashes on me.
My 11:00 a.m. meeting ended just before noon, so I would have gotten to the Lutheran Church's noon Ash Wednesday service a little late. I decided not to try it and went to work out at the gym I had just joined earlier in the week. Despite fasting, I made it through the workout with no problems and the rest of my day. The hunger made me think about Jesus. If he could fast for forty days and go to the Cross, I could surely last until nightfall.
I picked up my daughter after her high school softball practice and took her to the orthopedic doctor to have her arm checked again. It's softball season, she's supposed to be the pitcher, and she's got a bad case of tendinitis. Thinking of softball reminded me of what I love about Lent. You start out during the cold and gloom of winter and reach Easter, and spring, at the end. The cold, rainy days that started Lent will end and eventually softball games will be played outdoors and Easter lilies will bloom even though right now they are just small shoots. A few more days of sacrifice and self-denial will give way to hopeful spring days and Easter feasts. I was feeling good about the way Lent was starting for me.
But by the time we finished at the doctor's office, I had slipped. The waiting room was full, so we had to sit on the floor in the hallway. (Well, we could have stood in the hallway while we waited for an hour-and-a-half, but decided against that.) I found it ironic that one could end up sitting on the floor at an orthopedic doctor's waiting room. Wouldn't orthopedic patients be the last people you'd want doing that? Between the fasting and the floor, I started getting a little grumpy. Then my daughter and I had an intense discussion about canceling her physical therapy appointment the next day since my wife—a chronic multitasker--had double-booked herself and would be unable to take my daughter to the appointment. I couldn't leave work early, so someone needed to cancel it since we could not work out a time that would work for rescheduling. By now, the hunger pains were no longer making me think of Jesus.
After about an hour-and-a-half, we stuck our heads in the waiting room and found there were only about six other patients still there (at about 6 p.m.). We decided to gather all of our stuff up and go inside to wait. It was about that time that I realized I would be unable to go to prayer at our church, at least unless I skipped dinner. I was now overcome with regret over the day, and wondering why we were at this orthopedic doctor, especially since he's not even in our network.
Finally, after a two-hour wait, we got in to see the doctor. Everything goes as expected, but at one point the doctor says to the physician's assistant, “Give her a band to put on her arm.”
“How nice that he's going to give it to us,” I thought. It made the two-hour, out-of-network wait bearable.
But on the way out after the exam, he receptionist handed me a form and asked me to sign for the band to submit it to the insurance. I then realized he meant, “Let's have her buy an armband.” In my weakened state, I signed and smiled. I just wanted to go home. This is exactly what makes me a lousy deal maker. I reach the point where I just want to go home, so I sign the mortgage papers or the car loan at whatever the price. I will probably never move again because it is too much trouble.
We arrived home at about 7:30 p.m., and my wife and youngest daughter had just finished eating a homemade pizza. But she had a second one for us. I was so hungry I went and opened the oven and pulled it out. Our pizza, though, had this huge bulge in in middle of it. When she cut the pieces, it let the air out and the pizza fell flat to about a quarter inch thick. The two cold pieces from the first pizza were nice and thick. Even though it's Lent, I am unable to not mention how much better the first pizza looks than ours.
My daughter and I start taking our pizza slices, and I notice there are two plates out for us. A regular stoneware plate and a small, Winnie the Pooh plate. I have still not eaten all day, and now I get angry because I want the big plate, not the Winnie plate. I switch plates with her, taking her slice of pizza. We start eating—I assumed someone has prayed sometime earlier—before the pizza has cooled off. Despite feeling strings of something running between the roof of my mouth and my tongue (I'm not sure if it's skin or cheese), I cannot wait for it to cool off. I just kept on eating.
For the rest of the night, I was unable to relax. By now, I was in a general, non-specific bad mood. My only victory was overcoming the temptation to eat two Girl Scout peanut butter cookies. Otherwise, I couldn't help think of how unlike Jesus I am on this Ash Wednesday.