The soot of ashes were embedded in the fingerprint of my thumb as I marked the forehead of a fellow parishioner proclaiming as I made the sign of the cross with the ashes on her forehead, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
It is always an honor to serve within the liturgy. Today I believe my Lent began as I looked into the eyes of my fellow brothers and sisters, some of them I knew the pain they have suffered, or the trials they are enduring and some the joy they are able to embrace. The more I proclaimed, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” the truth to this blessing set deep within my soul and as I looked into everyone’s eyes I felt the fragility of human life grip my spirit. ‘…to dust you shall return.’
There was a familiar swell of emotion that rose from deep within my spirit, an emotion of the ‘agape’ love John talks about in
1 John 4:7-12:
“Beloved, let us love one another, because love is of God; everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God. Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love. In this way the love of God was revealed to us: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might have life through him. In this is love: not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as expiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also must love one another. No one has ever seen God. Yet, if we love one another, God remains in us, and his love is brought to perfection in us.”
There are these rare moments that I feel this call from Christ and to receive it on the day we begin our journey into the desert was a gift. And then my son, Ryan, walks up to receive his ashes and my breath caught in my lungs as I proclaimed to my child, my first born – “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Here he was before me, a child of God first, and only given to me as a gift to love and help guide as God creates him into the young man he is destined to become. Yet, he too, will return to dust.
It was not surprising that our Cornerstone Bible Study lecture a few hours later was over ‘Agape’ love because we are studying 1 John. However, what was surprising was when I went home for a very small bite of hummus and bean chips I sat down to take a moment before heading back to work and turned on a show that had a young man showing off his talent in playing the guitar. The sound was unique and enjoyable. When he was done the host of the show brought out a musician the young man aspired to be like one day. They then ‘jammed’ together and in the end when the host asked the accomplished musician what words of advice he’d give the young man the musician said, (paraphrased) “Just be you, and who you are. You have a unique sound and it’s what God gave you. Stick with what God has given you and you’ll go far.”
I found myself nodding in agreement and when I turned off the TV I suddenly broke into hysterical sobs. I cried and cried having no idea why. I was even thinking to myself, “What am I doing? Why am I crying?” I then glanced over at this little ‘altar’ area I have in the house where the St. Maria Goretti relic is (till I figure out her main home) and a fresh new wave of tears broke forth. I didn’t fight it. I just let myself cry.
Finally, I wiped off my face, got my things and headed back to the office. On the way in I heard Amy Grant’s ‘Better than a Hallelujah’ and it dawned on me the reason for the tears. It was a gift. The gift of tears…crying for the pain of others, for the pain of those in my family, for my own pain…but I did not feel pain when I cried, instead I felt peace. It felt good. 🙂
I’ll post the first few stanza’s and chorus of the song at the end of this blog. But in the few hours we’ve already had in this day God has increased and I have decreased which is my Lenten promise to myself – to daily find ways I can minimalize in order to allow God to be glorified.
I’m so glad voting for the Reader’s Choice ended just before Ash Wednesday. I hated asking for votes…it felt so indulging. HOWEVER, I am so HONORED for each and every vote you all gave. The ministr(ies) have always been completely in GOD’S HANDS and I believe these next 40 days are a true preparation for me as well.
Blessings
Shannon
BETTER THAN A HALLELUJAH sung by Amy Grant
God loves a lullaby
In the mother’s tears in the dead of night
Better than a hallelujah sometimes.
God loves the drunkard’s cry
The soldier’s plea not to let him die
Better than a hallelujah sometimes.
We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a hallelujah.