“Remember, you are dust and to dust you will return.” 

Person after person, forehead after forehead, I repeat this refrain. For nearly an hour and a half, I stand and I repeat.

You move from station to station, preparing yourself for the Lenten journey ahead and all the while I stand.

As I stand, my mind begins to ponder the days to come. I think of the ashes in my hand, what they signify, what the words accompanying them really mean. In these moments of standing, of waiting, I begin to feel my humanity. I began to realize the limits of the body with which I journey. As I stand, I reflect:

• My aching back, a reminder that on this journey we need others to help hold us up- that we will not make it alone,
• My tired eyes, a reminder of the vision required for the road ahead,
• My thumb, covered in the blackness of ashes, a reminder that this journey will not always be easy and that there will be dark days,
• My tired knees as I bend down to meet the eyes of young worshipers, a reminder that this journey will take the faith only a child can teach,
• My ticking watch, a reminder that time does not stop and neither can we,
• My fleeting thoughts, a reminder that this journey is one that requires the deepest patience.

As I stand, I am reminded of my frail existence. I am reminded of the limits of my humanity, what is waiting at the end of it all.

I look down into the ashes and am reminded, over and over, that the beginning of the journey to Easter is not one of light, but one of darkness. For us to find light, we must first journey through the valley of the shadow. We must find ourselves, our true selves, our frail selves. We must dig deep within to see the humanity that is at our core- the weakness that compels us to journey, to move forward, even when we are not sure we can.

I realize that no matter how much light and life Easter may bring, we do not find those things this Wednesday. In my hand I hold dust, darkness- Sunday’s hopeful palms burned into tonight’s deepest sadness.

As I stand I reflect and, with the promise of light at the end, I move forward into the beautiful Lenten journey ahead…

“Remember, you are dust and to dust you will return.” – Genesis 3:19