Back when I was growing up in London, the local radio station would host a shun piker tour every Mother’s Day. Essentially, it was a region wide scavenger hunt in which we would follow one clue to another as we toured our way across South Western Ontario.

One particular year while doing the tour, my Mom and I traveled to a little farm just on the outskirts of the city. My Mom, being the social butterfly that she was, had lots to chat about with the farmers living and working on site. I, on the other hand, took it as an opportunity to roam the grounds and make some new friends of my own.

One of the new friends that I made was a little baby pig that couldn’t have been more than a couple of months old. I had never spent a lot of times around pigs before but, like most young children, I had very little fear regarding animals of any kind. Over the course of time that we spent on this farm (maybe an hour or so at the most), I became so attached to my new friend and wanted nothing more than to bring him home and make him part of the family.

Not long before we were to leave in search of our next destination, a young man came by looking for the little pig. When he finally found the two of us playing in the dirt, he approached me and took the pig in his arms. When I asked him where he was taking him, he simply looked at me like the true businessman that he was and said, “This little guy is going to the bacon maker”. I was mortified!! I cried the entire way home and have never eaten pork ever again.

That was nearly twenty years ago!

Sometimes, when I walk by a restaurant on Sunday morning and take in a whiff of bacon cooking in the distance…I find myself surprised at the fact that I have actually gone all this time without so much as tasting pork ever again. Even to this day, the smell of bacon quickly turns me into one of Pavlov’s dogs! How did I manage to give up something that I loved so much in an instant and more importantly, how did I stick to it?!?!? I mention this because Ash Wednesday is coming up on February 6th and that only leaves me with a couple of weeks to decide what I am going to give up for Lent.

I love the season of Lent. It’s simply such a time of renewal and spiritual reflection. I’ll be honest though…I usually find Lent really hard! In the past, I’ve given up such things as chocolate and cheese, and every time, I eagerly count down the days until I am permitted my favourite temptations again. Lent is only forty days long and yet, much like the New Year’s resolutions, it often becomes a struggle to uphold.

This year, I really want to make some serious changes in my life. They aren’t anything major or drastic but, certainly significant in their own right. They are changes that I have long wanted to begin merging into my life however, have always found a reason to put it aside. I’m beginning to wonder though, if the reason I have never braved this new challenge in my life is not so much because I’m afraid of succeeding but rather, because I’m afraid of failing…again!

As I child, I simply made a decision one day and that was it…and I never looked back. I wasn’t afraid of failure because it never occurred to me that I could fail. The psychology of habit and patterns didn’t have the same impact as they do now and in turn, I feel as a child, my only challenge was against my ten-year-old self and not a lifetime worth of ego and subconscious behaviour as well.

At long last though, I have come to the conclusion that now is as good a time as any to embrace my fear of failure and tackle the change that I have long wanted to bring into my life long term. I have about two weeks to decide on the best way to do so and then from there…I have forty days to conquer myself with a little extra “divine supervision”. I’m hoping that after that, my twenty-nine year old intention will meet up with my ten year old determination and make a person that my future, wiser self will be proud to look back on!

Wish me luck and lots of turkey bacon!