Lent approaches (and socks still annoy her)

Lent approaches, and I sometimes really miss these kinds of conversations. (Ramona was 5, Betsy was 11, and Anne-with-an-e was 14.) 

Ramona: "I'm going to give up hanging off the kitchen cupboard door."

Betsy: "Wait a minute — I thought you were going to give up whining."

Ramona: "No. I gave up whining when I have to put socks on. But that was this morning. Now I'm giving up hanging off the cupboard."

Anne-with-an-e: "It's not fair to God if you keep changing what you're giving up."

Ramona: "Well, I won't change it anymore. I'm giving up hanging off cupboards, and every time I feel like doing it, but don't, I get to put a bean in the jar."*

(Why don't I remember her hanging off the cupboard? It seems like something I would have loudly said NO to.)

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and I'm going to try to make it a bean-filled Lent. Okay, sure, there are no actual beans anymore and no actual jar. My girls grew up and the jar-filling stopped happening, and their sacrifices became more personal and I had far less material for my blog. But the intent remains and I can still shoot for it: Every time I feel like doing it, but don't...

"As the world must be redeemed in a few men to begin with,

so the soul is redeemed in a few of its thoughts, 

and works, and ways to begin with:

it takes a long time to finish 

the new creation of this redemption."

~ George MacDonald

And so, once again, it begins. 

~~~~~~~~~~

*Beans in the "Sacrifice Jar": 

There are different versions of this all over the place, but here's what we did when the girls were little: We put out an empty jar and a bowl of dried beans. For every act of kindness, prayer, or sacrifice, the kids put a bean in the jar. On Easter morning they found the beans had been replaced by an overflowing supply of M&Ms. (God's goodness knows no bounds and He will always give us more M&Ms than we deserve.)