A Finger Full of Ashes
The young high school girl stood before me dipping her thumb into the small container of ashes, lifted them to my forehead and pressed in. As she made her mark sealing my forehead with the sign of the cross, she spoke, “Repent and believe the Gospel.”
Sitting in my pew waiting for others to receive their ashes, I glanced up. There was no mistaking the wiggly preschoolers watching intently on. As wisdom would have it, someone had placed between each and every little person, a student who was a few grades older. Why would someone choose to do this? They chose to do this in order to make sure the little people beside them were paying attention or at least not misbehaving. I caught little eyes staring up from time to time—trying to model the role models. Every so oft, an older one would look down upon the little one—as their purpose was to guide and direct.
As a child, I remember the ashes on Ash Wednesday while sitting in a pew surrounded by older students. “Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it” (Prov. 22:6). Thus, I found myself back in the pew this Ash Wednesday.
I remember mom and dad with ashes upon their foreheads and many more memories about the faith of my family. I remember Grandma Alice on her knees in prayer while Grandma Irene invited us to an annual church dinner. The first grandma prayed with beads and the other grandma crocheted a book mark in the shape of a cross for my Bible. Both grandmas were quiet in their witness, but witness they did.
Grandpa Herold and Grandpa Herb lived their faith and I wonder just who trained them? I wonder where the sacred calling in life began to have it be known and shown to love your wife as Christ loved the church as it speaks of in Ephesians 5:25. Perhaps when they were little, they were the ones looking up to older ones beside them and lived out what was modeled. I will be forever grateful for the saints who have gone before us and the influence they had in the lives of those around us.
Now that my grandparents are ashes to ashes—perhaps Ash Wednesday was a good day to remember that one day I, too, will be ashes and that makes me wonder. How am I spending time here on earth? Am I about my Father’s business? I pray I am because the little ones who follow are the ones who now look upon grandpa and I. I pray each grand catches a glimpse of Thee.
Lord, may my life be about Thee and not me. One day when I am nothing but ashes— may Thy Word be a lamp unto the feet of the generations that follow. May You be a Light unto their paths as Psalm 119:105 says.
Once home, I went straight to the stove. Why? Because I’ve been introduced to yet another Christian tradition at our little church in town. That practice is the gathering for soup and sandwiches at the table of grace each Wednesday in Lent. The fellowship is food for the soul as we share His presence by being present. Amen.
