Lent is upon us, reminding me of my time in Catholic School when we would stand beside our desk and announce what we were giving up. My friends’ answers— “Candy,” “My bicycle,” “Ice cream,” “Bonanza” —paled in comparison to mine. Naturally, no one was dim-witted enough to say “Nothing,” especially when it was a spiritual opportunity to one-up each other. And yes, I was competitive like that. I apologize. Probably because of jealousy, my noble sacrifice never received the acclamations it deserved, even though mine seriously eclipsed everyone else’s. I would give up the one thing I craved, the one snack upon which I was dependent for happiness: salt on ice cubes. Had my classmates not eaten for 40 days, their sacrifice wouldn’t come close to mine. They, unlike me, had no idea what withdrawals were all about. For the entire Lenten season, it was all I could do not to sneak an ice cube since the entire procedure took such little effort. Five simple steps to Paradise: (1). Remove the ice tray from the freezer. (2). Pull the silver lever to loosen the cubes. (3). Place the ice into one of those colored aluminum cups. (4.) Add salt granules. (5). Lick away. I get goosebumps just thinking about it. The first year I proudly broadcast my answer in class, not-a-little-agitated Sister looked at me like I was a whack-a-doodle, told me this wasn’t a joke and had me sit down. (Are you understanding my embarrassment here? I mean, who’s going to double-cross God by fibbing when grace points are involved?) Even I had standards…well, sort of. Anyway, I went home and told my poor mother what happened, hoping for some consoling words. “Well, Patty Ann, I’m sure Sister _________ didn’t mean it to embarrass you.” (Not the first time I had heard those words from Mom, I assure you.) Anyway, a friend recently sent me Pope Francis’s suggestions for other Lenten sacrifices that are just as noble as my salt-on-ice cubes offering: Fast from hurting words and say kind words. Fast from sadness and be filled with gratitude. Fast from anger and be filled with patience. Fast from pessimism and be filled with hope. Fast from worries and have trust in God. Fast from complaints and contemplate simplicity. Fast from pressures and be prayerful. Fast from bitterness and fill your hearts with joy. Fast from selfishness and be compassionate to others. Fast from grudges and be reconciled. Fast from words and be silent so you can listen. I wish I would have thought of Pope Francis’s idea when I was in fourth grade. It would have saved me a lot of embarrassment. Then again, in all honesty, at that age, these wouldn’t have been as difficult to forego as my ice cubes were. Now, however, well, that’s a different story.