There's always a moment. In the times where death and hopelessness seem overwhelming, God is always at work. Always. If I'm not seeing it, I'm in the way.
Ash Wednesday service and the haunting solo notes of Kyrie...kyrie...eleison float out over the gathered few. People rise to come forward for the imposition of ashes. Mother, daughter, infant grandaughter lead the line and I make the sign of the cross on the grandmother's forehead. Remember, you are dust and to dust you will return. And then, the infant. Big eyes...new life...possibility defined and I say as I rub her smooth skin with the rough ashes...Remember, you are dust, and to dust you will return.
Breathe...breathe...because it takes my breath away. We are dust. We share mortality. But we are marked by this cross that says the most significant phrase I have ever heard and believe... In life and in death, we belong to God. I am humbled. I am blessed.
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