The Dishes

    So, I decided  that a rather nifty challenge for myself, to battle the deadly sin of Sloth, would be to get the dirty dishes done every day at a minimum for Lent.   Some science has indicated that it takes approximately thirty days to form a habit and this is a habit I would like to cement.   I do the dishes on a regular enough basis, but that doesn't always mean every single day.   I'll admit it.   To bar myself from the luxury of not doing dishes some evenings would be to, somehow, make myself a better person.   

   In response to this plan, I have received the following reactions: 1) You're my kind of girl! (from a person who thought I meant I was giving up dishes, in the sense of NOT doing them, ever), 2) that's not...um...spiritual (from my brother and my husband), and 3) That sounds like a good idea.   I understand why it doesn't sound "spiritual" but I submit that this has been supplemented by some morning and night prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours, and is also helping to improve my relationship with the virtue of perseverance and loosen my connection to sloth.  

     I do generally get things done and show up to work when required, even adding projects to my schedule.   However, I'm inordinately capable of doing things (such as blogging, reading, knitting, and watching British accents on the telly) that do not maintain my home in an immaculate state. I have read blogs and statements by priests who suggest that a surprisingly small number of their well fed, well entertained American parishioners accuse themselves of sloth and gluttony in the confessional.   Clearly, this is not meant to break the confessional seal, but to point out that it is very possible for certain sins to be so ingrained in the way we live that our consciences stay silent.   This Lent, I'm trying to do a very small thing to re-train my conscience and to recognize that even an act as small as doing the dishes so my husband doesn't have to is an act of service and self-giving.