A season of sacrifice (and chocolate withdrawals)

Every year, without fail, Lent sneaks up on me. Just when I’ve finally recovered from my New Year’s resolution flop, along comes another season of self-improvement disguised as sacrifice.

Lent, for those unfamiliar, is the 40-day period leading up to Easter, meant to mirror Jesus’ time in the wilderness. It’s a time of reflection, repentance, and often, giving something up as a personal challenge. In theory, this practice strengthens faith and discipline. In reality, it also strengthens my craving for whatever I’ve sworn off – particularly if it’s chocolate.

Now, let me be clear: I love the idea of Lent. A time to step back, take stock, and let go of the things that have an unhealthy hold on me. That’s noble. But somewhere along the way, it’s turned into a season of personal deprivation games. Every year, I try to identify that one thing I’ve grown a little too attached to – be it sugar, caffeine, social media, or my insistence on staying up late reading “just one more chapter.” Then, for 40 days, I attempt to prove that I am not, in fact, ruled by my vices.

Some years, my sacrifice has been commendable. Other years… well, let’s just say my commitment wavered around day three, when a dear friend surprised me with a bag of Cadbury Mini Eggs. The rest, as they say, is history.

One year, I decided to give up coffee. That was a mistake. By day five, my family was begging me to reconsider. “Jesus fasted in the desert, Mom,” they reasoned, “but He didn’t have crazy deadlines.” That sacrifice ended early, with a whispered prayer of forgiveness and a stop at Timmies.

Another year, I gave up complaining. It seemed like a good idea until I realized how much of my day revolves around venting. The weather, the housework, grocery prices, my CRA bill, my internet speed, the driver who cut me off in the parking lot – turns out, there’s a lot to not complain about when you’re actively trying. Also, people get very suspicious when you respond to every irritation with a serene nod and a “That’s fine.” I am not a “That’s fine” kind of person.

But despite my somewhat wobbly track record, I do believe in the purpose of Lent. There’s something humbling about recognizing the things that have too strong a grip on me, whether it’s sugar, stress, or the endless doom-scrolling that keeps me from being present. And though I might not always succeed, the attempt itself reminds me of what I truly need to sustain me – faith, family, and maybe just a little less caffeine.

This year, I’m still deciding what to give up. Perhaps it will be snacking after 8 p.m. Perhaps it will be my habit of over-apologizing (though, let’s be honest, I’ll probably apologize for that decision at least twice). Whatever it is, I hope I come out of these 40 days a little lighter – not just in terms of sugar intake, but in the way I measure my priorities.

And if all else fails? There’s always next year. Until then, I’ll be the one staring longingly at the Easter candy aisle, whispering, “Not yet.”