by Cathy Stenquist
2/19/2015

I Was a Victim of a "Drive By Ashing"

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. To be honest, it is one of my favorite days in the Liturgical Calendar. Seems funny , I know... but there is something that has felt special about this day since I was a little girl. My mother scooting us off to Ash Wednesday Mass and all five of us kids prayerfully folding our little hands marching up to the priest, hearing the words, "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." (Based on Genesis 3:19). We were all eager to get to a mirror and see what the ashes looked like on our foreheads. At Mass yesterday, a little boy wiped the ashes and smeared them on his nose, then prayerfully knelt, ashy hands folded and prayed. Precious boy. I know God smiled in his heaven. The little boy was much like me back then, knowing I was part of something important, but not quite understanding it.

This year, the word "Transformation" really stuck out to me and I think I will put it in big letters on my refrigerator during these forty days. The palm branches that we waved in triumphant welcome on last Palm Sunday have been transformed into ash which now adorns our foreheads with the mark of a Christian in transformation. Many may wipe the ashes off for esthetic reasons, but one of the things I enjoy most is going on about my day, forgetting they are there and being reminded of my journey by the look I see in the faces of those I will meet at the Superette, when I get my oil changed or from neighbors when we are out raking our roofs today.

Oh ... and back to the "drive by ashing" .... A year ago I was in Alabama visiting my mother and father. We were unable to get to Mass to get ashes due to my disabled father's needs. My mom felt bad, so I snuck her out for a brief breath of fresh air on a quiet walk around the block. A fellow parishioner at my mom's church had heard my mother was not able to come and drove over to bring her ashes. When my father advised we were on a walk, she drove around the block and found us, rolled down her window and proceeded to give us ashes right from her car. A few prayers later she pulled away and mom and I had a great joyful laugh. And more importantly, she was renewed in spirit to go back and care for my father.

These forty days will be a gift if I can just slow down from my busy life and
reprioritize my focus on giving to others, fasting, and quiet prayer and reflection. Now in my 55th Lenten season, I hope I am becoming closer to what God had in mind for me and my life all along. God bless you all on your journeys.