Pastry as penance.

It's Lent again, and we are all looking for ways to grow in holiness, and to serve God more faithfully, I'll bet my title has caught the attention of at least a few folks who, like me, wish gluttony were not one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Alas, unlike the tabloid promise to "lose 35 pounds on the Fudge Brownie Diet," this is not a "Forty Days to Sanctity on the Peach Pie Plan." At least (in my case) not by eating it.

In order for this column to make sense, you must know that my husband is very fond of pie: apple, banana cream, cherry, and right on through the rest of the alphabet (except raisin--even he has his limits). You also need to know that I hate making pies. Kindly put, I'm woefully deficient in this particular culinary skill. I'm really bad at pastry, but I've been known to flub the filling part as well. I've conquered nearly every "no rail" pie crust recipe I've encountered, with (variously) soggy, tough, underdone, burnt, or greasy results. My pie-fillings have ranged from too runny to not sweet enough (and yes, I do follow recipes).

Perhaps I ought to have admitted defeat and burned my rolling pin long ago, but I persevere, mostly for my husband's sake. Because he loves pie and I love him, I have not, nor will I ever relinquish the hope that someday, by God's grace, I'll succeed at the art of pie-making. In the meantime, Dan is chivalrous enough to eat even my failures (provided there's enough ice cream or whipped topping on hand).

I'm trying to apply this lesson to other areas of my life as well, especially when called upon to serve in the parish or wider community. Most of us feel we know our talents and our strengths, and so we limit our service to those areas where we excel. When asked to do a particular task, sometimes we aren't even willing to consider it, because it's outside our area of expertise, or out comfort zone. We may assume, without even trying, that we lack the talent or ability to do the job. Like Jonah or Moses, we ask, "Why me? Isn't there anyone else out there who could do this better than I?"

Sometimes, this is just common sense. In certain cases, it would be foolish for us to take on a job for which we were eminently unsuited. (The mathematically inept should probably not be looking after the parish finances, for instance.) But sometimes, it's just laziness masked by false humility, as in when we're not interested in trying something new, and we beg off by protesting that we lack the talent for the job. Sometimes it's pride: "I don't want to be under someone else's direction. If I can't be the boss, count me out," or, "I don't want to look bad: if I can't do the job better than anyone else who's ever done it, I'm not going to do it at all."

Such an attitude denies God the opportunity to show his strength through us. If we only want to do things that we feel we're really good at, we may begin to believe that it is by our own talent and virtue that the job is being done. We may forger that every good gift, every strength, every talent, comes from God alone. Sometimes it's appropriate just to step out in faith with a heart willing to serve, and trust in the Lord for the results. What may begin as an act of penance, could in time become a rewarding experience, and more importantly, a whole new way of serving God.

This Lenten season, try to see if there is an unfilled need in your family, parish, or community. Be willing, for the love of God, to try something new, or even return to a job you may have previously abandoned, because you felt you lacked the talent to 'do it right.' God honours even our shortfalls and outright failures, if we dedicate out efforts to his service.

For the sake of serving Christ and his church, I want to be willing to try almost anything--just don't ask me to make pie for the parish fundraising supper. At least, not quite yet.

Mariette Ulrich, mother of six daughters, is a homemaker and freelance writer. She writes from Scott, SK.