It is always the most extraordinary thing, that moment of unexpected intimacy, as the priest dips their finger in that black ash and marks the forehead - where once the cross was traced in baptismal oil.
"You are dust, and to dust you shall return"
Words that have, in previous years, made me feel heavy - as if I were pronouncing, rather than simply acknowledging, a death sentence.
Words that have made me remember those whose foreheads I marked in previous years, who are now gone from us, demonstrating the truth I had spoken.
"You are dust".
This year,kneeling at the rail, a young mother asked me to ash her daughter, just a couple of months older than my precious Eleanor Grace.
I'm not sure what I expected, really - but certainly not the beautiful smile with which little Bella greeted the words, the open welcome with which she received the cross on her forehead.
For a second I felt myself the unwelcome guest, the bad fairy at the christening in a Grimm's tale.
I had brought a memento mori into a context where surely what should have been celebrated was the gift of life...but Bella knew better.
Her smile was that of someone who knows that all is exactly as it should be - and she reminded me of the freedom that is part of our mortality.
You are dust - so the huge weight of our preoccupations really doesn't matter.
You are dust - so, actually, the mountain of STUFF we accumulate to worry about is of absolutely no significance whatsoever.
You are dust - so you have permission not to worry, to live in this moment, to savour the here and now just as a small child might do.
This year, "You are dust" has become a mantra that has re-ordered my priorities, reminding me not to fret over trivia, never to lose sight of my eternal destiny but to rejoice in the freedom of being mortal as once again I try to turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ.
"You are dust, and to dust you shall return"
Words that have, in previous years, made me feel heavy - as if I were pronouncing, rather than simply acknowledging, a death sentence.
Words that have made me remember those whose foreheads I marked in previous years, who are now gone from us, demonstrating the truth I had spoken.
"You are dust".
This year,kneeling at the rail, a young mother asked me to ash her daughter, just a couple of months older than my precious Eleanor Grace.
I'm not sure what I expected, really - but certainly not the beautiful smile with which little Bella greeted the words, the open welcome with which she received the cross on her forehead.
For a second I felt myself the unwelcome guest, the bad fairy at the christening in a Grimm's tale.
I had brought a memento mori into a context where surely what should have been celebrated was the gift of life...but Bella knew better.
Her smile was that of someone who knows that all is exactly as it should be - and she reminded me of the freedom that is part of our mortality.
You are dust - so the huge weight of our preoccupations really doesn't matter.
You are dust - so, actually, the mountain of STUFF we accumulate to worry about is of absolutely no significance whatsoever.
You are dust - so you have permission not to worry, to live in this moment, to savour the here and now just as a small child might do.
This year, "You are dust" has become a mantra that has re-ordered my priorities, reminding me not to fret over trivia, never to lose sight of my eternal destiny but to rejoice in the freedom of being mortal as once again I try to turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ.
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