Because Lent Is Supposed To Hurt

My goal was to stop baking casseroles and carry more crosses.

The casseroles were easier.

I catch myself signing up for something--anything--to distract myself from the hard work at hand. Need a group to cook brunch for 100? I'll head that up. Need a double baby shower planned? I'll take that, too.

Call me a slow learner.

I chopped salad. I whipped homemade dressing. I filled 4 steam pans with hash brown casserole and flipped 100 hot muffins into napkin-lined baskets. I drove to church balancing a centerpiece on my lap...

...where I bumped into another lady carting food for the brunch she signed up to serve on the very same day.

I had to swallow my pride and walk out of the kitchen. All that food, work, money--gone! I was so crushed that I could not write about it for a month.

I struggled to find the bright side. At least I could reuse some things for my husband's big meeting at work.

"Oh no," he admitted. "Mary Jo's been taking care of that kind of thing for me all year. She used to be a Home Ec teacher, so she's really great at making the table look pretty."

Et tu?

I won't go so far as to call this a sign from God, but I will say that once you abandon your comfort zone, you'd better be prepared not to crawl back in.