Shrove Tuesday, Ash Wednesday and Me

I grew up in a protestant fundamentalist Christian household where anything that even smacked of catholicism was practically considered devil worship. Oh how I used to envy my catholic friends who, on Ash Wednesday, got to go to mass and have ashes rubbed on their foreheads. I felt left out when they would discuss what they were giving up for lent. I knew of no such ceremonies. There were no days set aside for reflection and self-sacrifice in our church.

Instead we were reminded weekly of our evil and sinful nature. We were cautioned that the path to hell was a razor’s edge and we could end up there by disobeying God, our parents, wearing make-up, dancing, smoking, drinking alcohol, wearing high heels, cussing, or having sex.

(Photo taken for a Tarts & Vicars party last year.)

It’s Shrove Tuesday.  Get your pancakes on.


4 thoughts on “Shrove Tuesday, Ash Wednesday and Me

  1. Great post! And picture. It’s funny what you say about the Catholics. I was in elementary school in New Orleans and my best friend and most of the kids were Catholic. We did not grow up in a church, and I longed for the ritual and ceremony of the Catholic church. I even wanted to be a nun for a few weeks. Maybe the Catholic church is seductive in its own way. Probably the incense. Asked Donie the Catholic in this household if he wanted pancakes tonight, and he would have none of it.

  2. How and where you grew up sounds a lot like how/where I grew up. Only we didn’t have any Catholic kids at my school. They all went to St. Mary’s across town. Here’s to surviving and the freedom of being a grown-up!

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