Ash Wednesday. The day we join together with others, form into that long line and as Father wipes the cross onto our foreheads we hear those words “remember you are dust and to dust you will return”. What a sobering thought.
Tonight, tonight is different for some reason. And I am filled with hope. The ashes are the start of Lent. The sacrificing, the drawing closer to Him, the giving up of ourselves to allow Him to transform us. Burning down to something different, cleansed and strengthen by the fire. Leaning on Him when we are weak, trusting and resting in His strength. Because He is strong enough to carry it.
Watching the line of believers receive their ashes. Then watching the same procession receiving Communion. Second row, center. Close up, first hand witnesses. Watching Father’s mouth form the words over and over just as purposefully as the last. Hearing the Cantor’s contralto voice through the choir’s combined voices. Seeing the ashes on my children’s foreheads. The confusion on BabyGirl’s face as she touched mine then hers.
Surreal. The fog lifted. Everything seemed so clear again. I was renewed.
What will rise from the ashes? All is not lost. The sacrifices we make are for something. Something bigger. Something better. A new beginning, renewed each day but focused during this season. It is a somber season. One filled with hard acts. Those hard acts, if allowed, can transform. Become things of glorious beauty for His Glory.