Self-Deprivation

By Douglas J. Eboch

Hear the story read by the author.

In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. This year, church secretary Tammy Billings decided she was going to give up coffee for Lent. This was no small thing. Tammy went through several cups of coffee every morning. “Good for you,” Pastor Henry O’Donnell said when she told him. Little did he know how much Tammy’s decision was going to impact his own Lenten experience.

Meanwhile, Henry’s wife Jennifer had her own idea for Lent. Jennifer had been concerned about both her and Henry’s steadily increasing weight for some time. But getting Henry to agree to do something about it was a difficult proposition. Henry liked to eat and didn’t like to exercise. He also seemed less worried by their expanding waistlines than she was. Jennifer thought perhaps Lent might offer him the proper motivation. So she proposed that they each give up their biggest weakness - ice cream for her and barbecued ribs for him.

Henry didn’t care for the idea. First of all, he really, really loved his weekly visits to Big Tommy’s Rib Shack. Second of all, he didn’t think the Lenten sacrifice was meant for self-improvement. It was supposed to be a way to focus one’s mind on God, not on oneself. He only made that second argument to Jennifer.

Jennifer thought the pain of giving up Big Tommy’s would definitely focus Henry’s thoughts on God.

Henry then pointed out that under the Catholic rules of Lent he would still be able to eat at Big Tommy’s on Sundays. He thought he could probably live with that. Jennifer pointed out that they weren’t Catholic.

In the end they came to a compromise. They both would agree to eat healthy six days a week. On Sundays, they would go to Big Tommy’s for dinner and stop off for ice cream on the way home.

When Henry arrived at the office the morning after Ash Wednesday he was still sulking over the bowl of oatmeal Jennifer had served him for breakfast. At least eating healthy didn’t mean he had to give up his morning cup of coffee. He went straight to the coffee maker which was in a small conference room off the front office. To his surprise, the pot was empty. Tammy’s desk was right outside. Henry leaned out and asked, “so, does giving up coffee for Lent mean you’re not going to make it for the rest of us, either?”

It probably wasn’t the wisest thing to say, but Henry was lightheaded from his low-cal breakfast.

Tammy turned on him like a starving fight dog. “I’m the church secretary, not a barista,” she snarled. “Why am I the only one who ever makes the coffee anyway? I know you’re just a helpless pastor with very few real world skills, but I think maybe you can manage to make your own coffee for a few weeks.” Henry ducked back into the conference room and wiped a few beads of sweat from his temples. Yes, he thought he probably could make his own coffee for a few weeks.

Tammy had entered stage one of caffeine withdrawal. This stage was characterized by headaches, bad temper and general snippy-ness.

The next day Henry went into the conference room to make the coffee and discovered the coffee maker wasn’t there. He took a deep breath and girded his psychological loins. Then he leaned into the office. “Uh, Tammy…”

“I moved it,” she barked. “I couldn’t take smelling it all day. It’s in the lounge. Is that a problem for you?”

If it was Henry figured it was a smaller problem than the one he’d have if he complained. He went to the lounge.

On Sunday morning Henry was relieved that Tammy spent most of coffee hour talking with her friend Karen Winslow. He could drink his coffee without fear of violent attack. And that evening he enjoyed his trip to Big Tommy’s. Lent had gotten off to a rocky start, but he thought maybe it was turning a corner.

When Henry came into the office Monday morning, he found Tammy had entered stage two of caffeine withdrawal: lethargy.

Normally Tammy was bright and bubbly first thing in the morning. Callers to the church office got a chipper, “Hello!” But today her “hello” sounded like the last gasp of someone dying of dehydration in the middle of the desert.

Henry had a meeting that morning with the church accountant to discuss tax issues followed by a long conference call with the District headquarters. During the meeting and call he heard the phone ring in the front office several times. So when he finished he went to see what he’d missed.
Tammy, her eyelids at half-mast, was wobbling over the copier as she ran copies of the monthly church newsletter. “Any messages?” Henry asked.

“No,” Tammy replied in a haze.

“None?”

“No.”

Henry looked at her skeptically. Normally Tammy was incredibly reliable and he would take her word on the issue without question. But today was not exactly normal. “Then who called?” he pressed.

“Nobody.”

“I heard the phone ring.”

For the first time Tammy looked at him. “Oh yeah,” she said. And she went to the desk, picked up a message slip and handed it to him.

“Thank you,” Henry said.

As he was returning that call, Tammy brought in another message slip that she had forgotten to give him. As he was returning that call, she brought in another.

Henry was glad when two days later Tammy had finally entered stage 3 of caffeine withdrawal: recovery. She was back to her normal, chipper self, though the coffee machine stayed in the lounge.

Henry did not realize how much damage stage 2 had done to him, though, until he finally got around to perusing the latest church newsletter that afternoon.

There, copied in the middle of the calendar page, was a phone message from Shane the choir director. It read, “Norm’s O.K. for lunch Tues.” Apparently Tammy had accidentally mixed the message in with the newsletter while she was copying.

Overall, Henry had been pretty faithful to his agreement with Jennifer to eat healthy. Going to Big Tommy’s every Sunday helped. But he wanted more than just ribs. He was craving a big, juicy barbecue burger and onion rings. One Tuesday every month Henry and Shane had lunch to plan songs for the following month’s services. Henry had left a message for Shane asking if they could do their lunch at Norm’s Normal Burgers. He figured one mid-week burger wouldn’t really hurt.

Henry burst out of his office clutching the newsletter.

“Hello,” Tammy said cheerfully.

“Did these go out?” Henry asked.

“Two days ago.” Tammy replied.

That evening Henry raced home as fast as he could hoping to beat Jennifer to the mail. He failed. When he came inside she was waiting, newsletter in hand. “Norm’s Normal Burgers is not eating healthy,” she said. Henry realized that one mid-week burger was indeed going to hurt him. A lot.

The rest of Lent went easily for Tammy now that she’d kicked her caffeine withdrawal. It did not go so easily for Henry.


The story of Lent and Easter at the little church will continue…