The Diet Coke is Mocking Me

I gave up soda for Lent. And what that really means is that I gave up Diet Coke since that's pretty much the only soda I drink. When it's not Lent, I drink it daily. And oh, how I love its carbonated goodness.

I understand and appreciate the theological basis behind sacrifice during Lent. Every time I find myself wanting what I've given up, I'm reminded of what Christ gave up for me and how perfect and vast his love for me truly is. And as I prepare myself to celebrate Easter, I think that reflection on the tremendous sacrifice that makes the joy of Easter morning possible is very important. To me, the shadow of Good Friday makes the radiance of Easter all the brighter.

So, in my heart, I know why we make Lenten sacrifices, and I do find it helpful in keeping me focused at this important time on the Christian calendar. But, of course, I still really want a Diet Coke, and the past couple days have been the ultimate challenge.

In preparation for Lent, I made sure there was no Diet Coke in this house. I saw no reason to torture myself, and the "out of sight, out of mind" approach has been helpful. I should also mention that my husband gave up coffee for Lent, so yesterday when he found himself needing a little pick-me-up in the afternoon at work he bought himself a 20-ounce bottle of Diet Coke.

Then he didn't finish it. And let me just ask: who doesn't finish a bottle of Diet Coke? That is just plain foolishness.

Then he brought it home into this house. OH. YES. HE. DID. He came home from work and plopped that half-full bottle of nectar on the counter with the mail and his keys as though it were a half-eaten ham sandwich left over from his lunch. I think my first words to him were, "Are you KIDDING? What are you trying to do to me?"

That poor man. He never saw me coming.

Actually, I'm kidding. I held myself in check rather well while he explained that he planned to finish it. I didn't start twitching in deprivation until I opened the refrigerator this morning to get the milk out and there it was, mocking me, tempting me, laughing at me. He left me alone in the house with the Diet Coke. I consider it a great personal triumph that I didn't just dump it down the drain.

I am relieved to tell you that nary a drop crossed my lips, and do you know how many times the mother of small children opens the refrigerator in a day? I'm so proud I didn't drink any that I'm not even ashamed to tell you that I opened the bottle and smelled it. Isn't that sad and pathetic? And it smells just as delicious as I remember.