It was a Wednesday morning. Nothing unusual was happening in the classroom where I was teaching a class of high school students. Nothing unusual, except they were more attentive than usual. But, something was different. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then a bell rang. Not the usual “time for the class to end” bell, but a different bell. Somehow the students knew what it meant. They slowly got out of their seats and headed in single file to the door, quietly. “Miss,” one of the students said, “We’ll be back once we’ve been to the chapel and had the ashes put on our foreheads.”
Just then the Principal came into the classroom and ushered the students out – apologizing that she’d not advised me about the interruption ahead of time. “The students will be back in the classroom in about half an hour” she said. And with that, she and the students left the classroom.
Three months earlier, I had turned twenty. This was my first teaching position. I was in a private school – a Roman Catholic school. At that time, my knowledge of Christianity, let alone Roman Catholicism, was limited. Very limited. Though I had been raised in a loving home, I had not been baptized nor exposed to a church that included rituals anywhere close to “Ashes on foreheads.” All of it was so new to me.
The school was quiet. No one was in the corridors. The only sound I heard came from the Chapel – quiet music, muted voices. When the students returned to the classroom, their foreheads had a black substance smudged on it. They were sombre, quiet. Something about them was different. But again, I couldn’t quite figure it out.
When I asked them to tell me what had happened in the Chapel, the students seemed to take delight in being my teacher! “Today is the day when we tell God we are very sorry for the times we’ve moved away and that we want to be better people.” But, I wondered, why the public display of the cross on their foreheads? “Ah, Miss, that reminds us that we’re all human and that we began as dust and will end as dust.”
Sounded to me like an ugly threat – “You’re going to die!” Well, I knew that one day I would die, but why would anyone want to go to church to be reminded, every year, that “from dust you have come; to dust you will go”? It seemed incredibly maudlin to me.
After school that day, I encountered Harry, one of the high school students I tutored. He was one of the few non-Christians at the private Roman Catholic school he attended and so was exempt from Chapel. But there he was, with a smudged sign of the cross on his forehead. He told me that his friends said they were going to receive the imposition of ashes and invited him along. He went, not because he wanted to, but because his friends had invited him and besides, he was curious about it all.
When he received the ashes on his forehead, he said that he felt that something had changed. He shared these words which he wrote in his journal … “As I received the ashes, all at once I realized in a whole new way, that it’s really true – “we are dust and we will return to dust when we diet.” He realized at that moment that life is transitory … and that he wouldn’t live forever.
In Christian churches around the world, people gather to receive the ashes on their forehead and hear the words “Dust thou art and to dust thou shalt return” on what is known as Ash Wednesday – the first day of the Season of Lent.Those words are certainly no one’s favourite words, but they represent a truth of which is important to remember from time to time – our own mortality. Sadly, September 11th did that. Tragically, January 6th, did that. People realized their own mortality.
Ash Wednesday is a sober reminder that we are mortal – not immortal. Acknowledging our humanity, our vulnerability, our mortality, helps us to live more fully. One way to do that, is to receive the imposition of ashes on our foreheads. That ritual is simply an outward symbol of what is hoped would happen internally and a commitment to be the best we can be.
Do we need to be a Christian to do that? No. Do we need to have experienced an Ash Wednesday service before? No. Do we need to be connected to a church to do that? No. All we need to do is accept our mortality, allow the ashes to be a sign that we recognize that our mortal life is a gift, and commit ourselves with the help of the Holy One, to use the rest of our mortal life to the very best of our ability.
Interestingly, the imposition of ashes, is not just a Christian tradition. It was an ancient Jewish tradition and was a public sign of an individual’s repentance. By the seventh century, the Christian church adopted it as part of the Church’s Lenten preparation before the Season of Easter.
Even during COVID, when churches were not open or people were reluctant to be among others during a pandemic, people found ways to receive the imposition of ashes. Churches became wonderfully creative!
Some supplied ashes for individuals/families so that they could sprinkle the ashes into the palm of their own or a family member’s hand and apply it themselves. Some encouraged the use of a cotton Qtip which could be dipped into the ashes and placed on the forehead that way. Other congregations gave members dirt, seed and water instead of ashes, acknowledging that from the dust of the world, new hope springs.
Other churches encouraged people to mark their hearts with the sign of a heart or the Cross as an outward and visible sign of their intention to turn their heart over to God and experience God’s unconditional love and forgiveness in a new way, saying the words “Dust I am and to dust I shall return.”
Many foreheads around the world are marking the beginning of the Season of Lent as people hear the words with those words.
I cannot stop thinking of the people in Ukraine, a year later, still living in terror as explosions deafen; food shortages become critical; the cold and snow gnaw at bodies; visible exhaustion on the faces of young and old alike; fear is a reality. Ukrainians are continuing to live the reality of Ash Wednesday’s reminder of human mortality, every day.
Children who survive this assault by Russia on their country, will have bitter memories of childhood as their reality in their adult years – just as it was for those children who survived the Holodomor of 1932-22 and are now seniors in this present struggle.
The Holodmor – did you learn about the Holodomor (translation: ‘death by hunger’ – a famine engineered by the Soviet Union under Joseph Stalin) in school? I didn’t. According to the 2010 findings of the Court of Appeal of Kyiv, there were losses due to famine around ten million people – and not just famine, but cannibalism for which, according to the Harriman Review, over 2500 people were convicted. As explosions hit, life is being lived in underground shelters, food and medication shortages escalate, and remembrances of the Ukrainian revolution, and terror grows that the Holodomor will once again be forced upon them by Russia.
The Holodomor made the desire for independence from Russia, a “need” … much more than a “want” … a life-long “need.” So it is not surprising that Ukrainians are fighting – again. Defending their country – standing firm for one another. Resilient in the face of terror and threat of reprisal, they are led by a courageous man, President Zelinskyy, his wife and his Cabinet members and the brave women and men who valiantly fight for and stand up for democracy.
In this country, Canada, there is a very large Ukrainian population as many Ukrainians arrived as refugees after the Holodomor so it is not surprising that Canada has stood with Ukraine for decades. On September 21, 2014, a statue entitled “Bitter Memories of Childhood” was unveiled outside the Manitoba Legislative Building in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, to memorialize the Holodomor was erected and there are similar statues in other parts of Canada.
“Dust thou art and to dust thou shalt return” is a reverberating reality in Ukraine and in the hearts of many around the world who ache for Ukrainians.
May no one ever take the precious gift of life for granted. May we uphold all who work and fight for freedom and democracy. If you observe the Season of Lent with the imposition of ashes, may gratitude be yours for the life you experience.
This prayer which I’ve adapted from the Alternate Lord’s Prayer found in A New Zealand Prayer Book might be of help as you think of Ukrainians today and in the coming days and of ourselves.
“Eternal Spirit, Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver, Source of all that is and that shall be … in times of temptation and test, strengthen them and us; from trials too great to endure, spare them and us; from the grip of all that is evil, free them and us.” Amen. So be it. Amen.
Whatever way each of us chooses to observe Ash Wednesday, may we enter with reverence, humility and gratitude.
Why do we let others fill our lives with negativity which only serves to cause stress?
Why do we continue turn on the tv and see, over and over and over, eruptions of anger and hatred?
Why do we allow fear to reign and not make choices that would place us in the company of people whose energy is loving and gentle and kind?
I wish I had the answers. I do not. I don’t know ‘why’ we do those things, but this I do know: we are responsible for making choices … choices about our friends – our tv and movie viewing – and yes, there are times when we even make choices about our families.
The British poet William Wordsworth once wrote (which may have been a mantra to himself as he faced a blank piece of paper and was about to construct a poem) these words: “Fill your page with the breathings of your heart.”
Not everyone is a poet and so not all of us sit before a blank piece of paper waiting for words to tumble forth. But each of us is an artist – an architect – a writer … of our own life.
What do we need as an artist of our life to draw a life of harmony? What do we need as an architect of our life to design a life that would lower stresses caused by things out of our control? What do we need as a writer of our life to consider words to live by which would be encouraging of positive action, nurturing of our soul, energizing to our body?
Each of us gets to determine those answers.
Perhaps we might begin by considering this adaptation of Wordsworth’s words and substitute his word “page” with this word – “life” and consider each day, which things, which people, which ways we can “fill our life with the breathings of our heart.”
Perhaps each of us can consider our answers to these questions: * What are the “breathings of your heart”? * What can you do to bring one of those ‘breathings’ into reality in your life in the next seven days? * Who can help/encourage/support you as you bring one of the ‘breathings’ into reality in your life? * What is stopping you from starting a reflection of these questions into action today? * How will your life change for the better when you begin to “fill your life with the breathings of the heart”?
If – when – we fill our lives in such a way, how can our world not be better? safer? kinder?
Many people around the world are using the Advent Calendar in the coming weeks, to ‘countdown’ to Christmas. What about Ukrainians? An artist friend lives in Kyiv, Ukraine and posted the following this night. It is shared with a gentle prayer and hope that in our own preparation / ‘countdown’ to Christmas this Advent, we will not forget the people of Ukraine. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Now there are many who are not in Ukraine have started writing about the Advent calendar – countdown to Christmas. We have our own countdown – light outages, planned and emergency. We plan our lives in such a way that we make the most of it in five hours. And then, in the dark, counting the minutes until the next opportunity to do something … along with electricity, the heating is turned off. Connection and Internet disappear for many. I have no hot water, along with electricity. Stores, banks, post office, those nearby do not work. But I don’t allow myself to whine. I think of our boys and girls in the trenches protecting us on the front lines. About the boys and girls who are captive. They have their own countdown.”
(Used with permission by the author who remains nameless for security reasons.) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My friends, as the world prepares for and ‘counts down’ to Christmas, safe in our homes with electricity, heating, internet access, food, safety, freedom, may we remember those in Ukraine who join in the ‘countdown’ to Christmas in a different way. Slava Ukraini!
“Baby, it’s cold outside!” And it’s going to get colder – and colder – and the snow that began falling earlier today is still falling and apparently is going to continue throughout the night.
When it began, it was just frost – making lovely patterns on the wooden fence on the back deck. Then the tiny snowflakes began to fall – creating a winter wonderland. And then the fat, wet snow filled the sky and quickly covered everything in sight.
It’s cold outside. Gratefully, I am warm, inside this little home. But so many in this community are not.
My heart doesn’t understand … why our local community centre can’t be opened so that warm shelter can be provided for those on the street.
My mind understands … that “it’s complicated” because of issues of who’s going to pay for it; who is going to staff/volunteer the facility; sanitation; meals and more. And then there’s the concern about COVID (people are still in hospital, fighting for their lives), the flu and the respiratory virus that’s affecting many children (and lately, seniors), as well as questions, raise their controversial head: … will those who will use the facility be fully vaccinated? … will those who staff/volunteer be fully vaccinated? … will everyone wear a mask? … what if violence erupts – will there be police/RCMP present? … will medical staff be present? … what about insurance issues? … what about overall security/safety concerns? … and, who organizes such a plan – municipality? province? federal government?
Some are posting on social media that “churches should open their doors.” They would love to, but If they do, the same questions above need to be answered.
But there are no easy answers. The homeless this night will sleep curled up on a sidewalk, in a doorway, huddled under a tree, as the snow falls and the wind howls. And some won’t wake up in the morning.
No answers. Just deep pain in my heart, my soul, my mind.
FAREWELL, NOVEMBER Not ‘good-bye.’ We plan on seeing you again, this time, next year.
HELLO, DECEMBER Good to see you again. May each of us bring moments of grace-filled love this month expressed in … gentleness … respect … kindness … patience … goodness … and thoughtfulness to … and … with one another and ourselves.
In so doing, may this world be less chaotic less tense less troubled less stressed.
What has been happening in your country is beyond imagining … the hatred … the fear … the lies … the threats …
You may feel helpless.
You may feel frightened as you have never felt before.
You may not feel as if you have the strength or courage to face “the next.”
You may feel alone.
Please be assured that there are people around the world who are holding you all in the Light … are praying for you … are “with you” in spirit … are hoping, praying and encouraging you to vote in your mid-term elections in numbers your country has never seen before.
May you vote love, not hate.
May you vote with hope.
May you vote with commonsense.
May you vote.
Signed, one of your Canadian neighbours, with love, who aches with and prays for you all.
A phone call and a question “Would you like to go for a car ride this afternoon?” began a day that unfolded in ways I hadn’t expected.
I’d been going on afternoon car rides with a wonderful man for several years. We enjoyed one another’s company, laughed a lot, had great conversations and loved exploring parts of this island neither of us had seen before. That day was no different. Or was it?
He picked me up and off we went with Shandy, his delightful King Charles spaniel – meandering along country roads, beside the ocean, exploring, talking, laughing. The sun was shining and the drive was leisurely and delightful. About an hour later, he pulled into a parking space beside the ocean (a place we’d often frequented on our afternoon drives), and we went for a walk along the ocean shore. At the end of our walk, we sat on a bench overlooking the water’s edge and before I knew it, he had asked me to marry him. Again. And added “It’s okay if you’re not ready. I’ll be here when you are. I’m hoping you’re ready now.”
He’d asked the question several times before, but each time I declined. This time was different. He was a man who was genuine, honest, sincere, could be trusted, was patient (he’d waited years for me to say ‘yes’) and loved me deeply. I knew that I loved this man in so many ways and when he said that he had phoned my son for his blessing, he endeared himself to me even more. My son had a deep respect for this man, was so happy for us both, and wholeheartedly gave his blessing. I was so happy and easily said “yes.” When would we get married? There was so much to do – perhaps in a year’s time?
“Soon, I hope. I’m not getting any younger” he said. “Sooner than later.” Within six (!) weeks, we had put our respective homes on the market … sold both homes … packed up the two homes (each downsizing as much as we could in such a short time) and found our ‘together’ home in a new community … created handmade wedding invitations … made the painful and difficult decision to love Shandy enough to let her go and be at peace from the pain that wracked her body and canine dementia confusion that imprisoned her mind … chosen wedding rings … planned the wedding … got married … moved into our new ‘together home’ … began to unpack the boxes … dealt with the kitchen cabinets that were literally coming off the walls and other unexpected renovation projects that needed immediate attention and more. It was a stressful time, but amazingly, it all seemed to bring us even closer together.
Little did I know how much my life would change when I answered a phone call and went on a car ride with Hans Van Der Werff.
Remembering how it all began … with a simple phone call and invitation to go for a car ride … thank you Alexander Graham Bell for inventing the phone so Hans could phone and invite me for a drive that day. And, … thank you, Karl Benz, for inventing the gasoline-powered car in 1871, so we could go for that lovely drive on that wonderful day in 2019.
Each time I remember that day, there’s a smile on my face and deep gratitude in my heart. Too many friends have recently been diagnosed with a form of dementia and are unable to remember very much. But that special, joy-filled day is firm in my mind.
That gentle giant of a man conquered cancer once – twice – but not the third one. Sad memory, but even so, I am ‘remembering’ much more with Hans — so many happy memories and am grateful for that gift of remembering.
Whether we refer to ourselves as Monarchists or not, now is not the time to debate. Queen Elizabeth has died today. She reigned for seventy (70) years.
She was human – very human and she made mistakes. And on this day, as her family is mourning, her country is grieving, and many around the world are questioning the appropriateness of a Monarch in general, the horrific effects of colonialism and the accession to the throne of the successor in particular, the time will come for debate about all of that and more, but with respect, not today.
Today, I am remembering a woman who faithfully served her country and the Commonwealth to the best of her ability. I give thanks for her lifelong service and ask God’s blessing on her.
Every day we wake up, is a day to say “Welcome” to whichever day it is: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Rain or shine, hot or cold – while some days may prove to be difficult – the “Welcome, Days of the Week” cyber floral mosaic series was created in the hopes that the flowers will put a smile on your face, remind you of happy, peace-filled, times and brighten your day, just a bit.
If you are feeling ‘blah’ or ‘down’ or ‘just not yourself’ for whatever reason (global politics, personal health/finances/relationships), concerns about family), may you welcome the hope this cyber floral bouquet offers: the flowers in the photo will bloom again. And so will you … some way … some how … some day.
Each day is a new day and every day offers possibility, promise, gift. From me to you – a floral “Welcome” to each day of the week.
Feel free to return to this floral ‘Welcome, Day of the Week’ whenever you’d like a little “floral pick-me-up” on a particular day, and share this (or any “Soulistry – Artistry of the Soul” reflection) with others.
In spite of the rain, rain and more rain, the flowers in many parts of the world are beginning to ‘rise and shine’. Happy Monday morning!With so much yuck happening in the world, I thought I’d post a floral “welcome” / “happy” each day this week. So, “welcome Tuesday!” It’s Wednesday … a day to slow down a bit, observe Mother Nature around us, and “smell the roses.” Welcome Wednesday!Continuing on in the weekly floral “Hello / Welcome Day” series which began here on Monday and will continue until this Sunday. It’s so easy to grumble when we wake up, worry as we hear the latest news, get stressed when the weather descends in an unwelcome manner, find irritation in the actions/words of another, that we overlook the gift of another day to live, breathe, serve, think, move, reflect, contribute, play, work, simply “be.” Welcome Thursday – delighted you’re here!Sometimes we think “I don’t think Friday is ever going to get here” and then, voila – it arrives. So, welcome Friday. You’re finally here!The weekend has begun! The tiny bud on the strawberry plant encourages us to think about what may be ‘budding’ in our life that we can focus on this weekend. Welcome Saturday – ‘bud’ away!
