Hi Friends,

I’ll never forget it.

I showed up for class in college, slid into my seat, and noticed the girl on my left had a large smudge on her forehead. She was an acquaintance, and in my earnestness to be a “real friend”, I pointed it out.

“You have something on your forehead,” I said, gesturing to her as if wiping at my face.

“It’s Ash Wednesday,” she said, turning in her seat.

Whoops!

Neither my husband nor I grew up in churches that followed the church calendar or included liturgy. So when our family went to the Ash Wednesday service at a nearby church last week, we were all experiencing it for the first time together.

It’s a sobering moment to move the hair off your eight-year-old’s forehead so he can receive the ashes and the pronouncement, remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

From the youngest among us to the elderly, the fate of our flesh is sealed. Beginning with the first domino of sin in the garden of Eden, perpetuated by our self-centeredness and pride, we find ourselves under the hand of death and decay.

We will all die.

I love Tish Warren Harrison’s words on this: “Reminding ourselves, day by day, that we will die teaches us to live. It allows us to know that the day to seek God, the day to repair relationships, the day to help others and bless the world around us is today — because it may be our last. Meditating on our mortality teaches us to live in light of the larger story of which we are a part, to locate our small joys or tragedies in the scope of eternity”.

This was the weight of the message delivered that Wednesday evening. Live in light of eternity.

The moments of silence provided for reflection and repentance were reminders as well. Take the time to make things right. Talk to God.

We all need these reminders, the space, the ashes.

So before we rush to Easter’s beauty, let’s do it. Let’s hold the ashes for a moment.

Let’s make things right. Let’s talk to God.

– Anna

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