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.