Ash Wednesday

 

For the first Ash Wednesday in my 7 decades, we didn't get ashes on our foreheads, just sprinkled in our hair because of Covid. But the memories of two different Lenten experiences flooded back. 

 I can see us now, two fourteen year old girls getting up an hour early in the dark, bitter cold of February to walk the 6 blocks to Church for Mass in Lent. We met on a corner under a streetlamp and wore school uniforms which meant skirts and frozen blue legs. Yet we did it that Winter. We, who are still friends after 67 years. We did it every day for three weeks which strikes me as remarkable. What small pile of glittering grace did we accumulate from those efforts ?

The second is a story of my Mom whose life was saved by Lent. One time, when she was in her 40s, she gave up Phillip Morris cigarettes for the 40 days 'til Easter. I don't recall her being edgy or out of sorts but she lit up quickly on Easter morning. Then, when a relative developed serious COPD and she saw him struggle to breathe, she put down the "coffin nails' ( that's what they called them.) for good. And I believe she knew she would succeed because she did once before. My Mom lived to be 83 years old..

Ash Wednesday is the day that we are reminded once again that all is temporary, we are here for a short sprint and one day we will leave. 

There are two small plots out at the Conyers monastery green cemetery that have our names on them. Three tall trees shade the spot that is on a small slope in the woods. In the ground will be two small boxes of ashes just like the ones sprinkled today. Between now and the time that the boxes are covered with dirt is a number of days that is unknown. Ash Wednesday reminds me that what I do , how I love, between this moment and that, matters. For eternity.