Wearing circles in the floor

Question: What happens when a person picks up their old check book from a bank back in Colorado and accidentally uses it six times?
Answer: A lot of guilt and frantic phone calls to establishments probably sharpening their financial pitchforks.

I feel as though I'm so absent-minded sometimes that I will one day fall into an open manhole and never be found again. It's concerning, really. I forget to call people five minutes after I told them I would call them right back. I put down my keys when I walk into a room, and have to spend twenty minutes figuring out where the heck I put them. My purses are battlefields when it comes to me trying to remember where I put my Chapstick (which is of vital importance).

Lent starts this Wednesday, and I've been searching for something to do for this season of renewal. I wish I could give up forgetting everything...but I am increasingly suspicious that it's a part of my personality.

Where is the line between who we are and habits? Is my forgetfulness some God-given trait, or can it be dropped or mastered? It's interesting to me when someone says "It's just who I am." That statement feels like a cop-out in so many situations. If we feel like we have to explain something away with that tricky sentence, then maybe it's not who we are. Maybe it's some alien habit or trait that requires rationalization to exist.

My forgetfulness is hopefully one of those temporary residences in my psyche that God never intended me to harbor, who I can push out with some discipline. At least, that's what I'll be telling myself in the hopes of one day being able to find my keys before I lose my mind.