Everything Happens for a Reason: And Other Lies I've Loved

by Kate Bowler

have taken up cursing for Lent, the forty-day stretch before Easter in which those who want to understand Jesus’ sacrifice choose one of their own. They promise to abandon vices, take up new spiritual practices, or simply give up chocolate like every fourteen-year-old girl I knew at St. Mary’s Academy, who combined their sympathy with Jesus at his grisly crucifixion with a spring break weight-loss program. As adults, most do-gooders I know give up alcohol or spend more time in prayer. I’ve started swearing. And I mean it. I swear about cancer. I swear about dry croissants and coffee that cools too quickly. I swear about the budding ulcers in my mouth from intense chemotherapy. I swear about the refugee crisis in Europe. I swear before and after I receive test results even though I’m tremendously relieved that, so far, the tumors are still shrinking. I swear about Curious George whining to the Man in the Yellow Hat. I am relentless. Last week I cursed at my mother-in-law in what I imagine was the halfway mark of her complaining about her wrinkles and her droopy parts. “I think aging is a fucking privilege,” I say squarely.