dust

Last year, Lent marked a major transition in our family. There were big decisions made about how we were going to practice our faith and hand it down to our kids. This year is different. The choices I'm making feel smaller and less spiritually and emotionally fraught. Which of course makes them more difficult in some ways, because there isn't the same sense of urgency. I'm giving up little things that have taken on way more importance in my life than they merit, to try to make room for silence before God and vulnerability before other people. These little things are not particularly impressive--I'm not even giving up Facebook, much less tea, chocolate, booze, or coffee. This year my challenge is to be quiet and find God in the everyday of nursing a squirmy toddler or doing laundry or sighing over job applications.

We're finding a place for ourselves in a new faith community and completing our first full year of following the traditional church calendar. Last night Margaret and I went to our first Ash Wednesday service together. I'm the grownup so of course I acted like I knew what I was doing, but I think inside I was just as nervouscited as her. 

She sat on my lap and doodled in her notebook for most of the time, except when we were singing or responding. Then I held her on my hip like a baby (7 o'clock is sleepytime for Margaret) and she said the Lord's Prayer with everyone else.

From Margaret's notes during the service

After we got home, she asked why the pastor had put ash on our foreheads. "Well, do you remember what she said to you?" I asked.

Dust you are, and to dust you will return.

She asked what that meant, so we talked about the old story that God had a beautiful, beautiful world and no one to enjoy it with him, so he took some dust and shaped it into a body and poooof--blew his breath into the body and it became the first living person. And someday when we die our breath will go back to God and our bodies will turn back into dust.

She made me retell it several times before I finally insisted it was time for bed.