by Brian C. Billings
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/nsplsh_77624c3357547634547938~mv2_d_4608_3456_s_4_2.jpg/v1/fill/w_147,h_110,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,blur_2,enc_auto/nsplsh_77624c3357547634547938~mv2_d_4608_3456_s_4_2.jpg)
Cuaresma brings fasting, but time
does not go fast for me. Instead,
my routines drag along. I dread
Friday’s bowl of fish. I know I’m
supposed to sacrifice. I mime
penance, but all of my thoughts rest on steak. My stomach rolls, distressed. I pray, and I am so sincere because I fear that Christ can hear the flesh that fails to meet His test.