Action 3: Don't turn on the car radio.

Sometimes this is not very hard at all. Turning on the radio opens up my safe little personal envelope of all-is-well and lets in the slings and arrows of outrageous MISfortune that often seem to populate my world. Violence in the Crimea, violence in the city, violence in my little corner of Virginia: I don't always want to be up to date. This winter, every broadcast includes reports of cars skittering off highways and yet another storm, polar vortex, disturbance, whatever, heading our way with sleet, freezing rain, wintry mix, snow or bitter cold  (pick one, no--two, oh hell, pick all of them!) in its wake. Not what I want to hear.

However, I'm beginning to detect a pattern in these recommended actions for Lent. All of them seem to direct me to be more mindful of my environment, and to turn my attention more inward than outward--at least for the moment.

When I turn off the radio (or don't turn it on) I am forced to listen to myself, and sometimes, I don't like what I hear. You see, I talk to myself, as well as to pedestrians and to other drivers, to whomever has recently set me off at home or in my family...I go back and decide what I SHOULD have said, or what I SHOULD have done. I would say that such behavior is unproductive, but it's really not. What it does is it recasts all these conversations and occurrences in my favor; it alters reality in such a way that I am the one who is right, and all my invisible conversation partners are wrong. Sometimes it takes listening to yourself to hear what you're doing wrong. And certainly, it takes a little noise modulation to allow me to hear what other messages might be coming through.

So. Love enemies. Abandon my car--at least for the day--and live in the real world. Now, turn back the noise level so I can hear, not only what I am saying to myself, but perhaps, what God is saying to me.

[Tomorrow: Action 4--Give $20 to a non-profit of your choosing.]