So this Sunday was Fast Sunday, and I was all prepared. (For those of you who don’t know, in our church we fast once a month. It’s combined with prayer, usually for a specific purpose that we decide on individually.) Fast Sunday is usually the first Sunday of the month, but because of an upcoming conference it was this Sunday.
Anyway, so I was all ready to fast. It was Saturday night, and I was ready, I knew what I was going to fast for, everything was good. Sunday morning comes, I’m fasting, I’m praying, things are moving along. B gets up, makes me breakfast, I eat it, I’m fasting, praying, we go to church, and they mention it’s fast Sunday, and B says, “It is?”.
I say “Yeah, I thought I told you” and he reminds me of what I had spectacularly overlooked this morning- namely the eating breakfast thing I did in the midst of all my purposeful fasting.
And that is why I’m the queen of fasting.
(By the way, this is in no way meant to put any blame on B- he hadn’t heard Fast Sunday was moved. It’s only meant to highlight my amazing and overwhelming dedication to fasting. 🙂 )