What are my Lenten disciplines this year? Fasting? Praying more? Assigned reading?
Actually, one is pretty mundane. Childish, even, maybe.
I need to clean up the profanity, the taking of the Lord's name in vain, that regularly spews from my potty mouth.
This morning, for instance. I was in a hurry, running late, trying to clean up the passenger side of my vehicle before I took it to the tire guy. I tend to sort through my mail in my car, which means I collect piles of cable-company fliers, solictations from countless charities, catalogs and other postal dreck. Anyway, I was trying to scoop the detritus out of the car, and it kept falling out of my hands onto the garage floor, and soon I found myself cursing the junk mail.
That's the usual m.o. -- cursing inanimate objects when they don't do what I want or expect them to. I regularly call God's wrath down on my molasses-slow computer, for instance, and my frustratingly primitive dialup connection. If God took this seriously my laptop would have been reduced to a flattened, blackened puddle of plastic and circuitry long ago.
And that's the stupid thing about petty profanity. Do I really want God to damn my slow computer, my dropped junk mail sopping up muddy slush on the garage floor, the dog bone I just stubbed my toe on? What does that even mean? And why does it flow so quickly and easily from my lips?
I don't like it. I don't want to do it anymore.