Finding Purpose
Tomorrow is Mardi Gras–literally Fat Tuesday–the last day before the Lenten season of self-denial, self-reflection, self-abnegation. We will indulge with a raucous carnival–literally farewell to meat–then get up the next day to be reminded of our mortality with a solemn ash cross swipe across our foreheads, preparing us for 40 days of sacrifice. Haha. JK. We’re just going to keep the carnival going, right? I have long since abandoned the rites and rituals of my Catholic childhood (and early adulthood, for that matter), along with my belief in a True Faith, an omnipotent score-keeper, or any sort of heavenly afterlife to which I might be admitted if I check all the right boxes. But that doesn’t mean I’ve given up on wonder or a commitment to good. I am regularly awed by small, simple moments that remind me that life–in general and particular–is absolutely amazing. Looking up from my dinner preparation to see Chip and Caruso, curled together in front of the fireplace; passing withi...