As I start this season of Lent, I remember last year. As I took care of Mom, during this time, my life had a singular purpose and focus. I can only count a few times in my life when my purpose and focus have followed the same line. Nothing is as vivid an example as when I was in labor with Zach. My mind, my heart and my body were intensely focused on my purpose.
This year, the ashes are real to me. My Mom was cremated and in this day, I finally saw the circle. In my devotionals and prayers, I have danced around the fact that I am mortal. But the ashes on my forehead as I look in the mirror remind me in the most basic way that I am dust.
Create in me a clean heart, Lord. Create in me a singular purpose and focus.
Prayer for Ash Wednesday William Loader, 15 February 1999
The darkness asks us questions. You are out there and we do not see. You invite us into the night, the stillness, the loneliness, the desert place.
We cannot see our shadow; the cold damp of unknowing rises up from beneath our feet. We tread cautiously, tentatively.
We are afraid, afraid of ghosts haunting us with spectres of guilt and shame.
We would like to run back, reach the river bank, swim the Jordan, sit in the sun by the sea, mending our nets. But you have brought us here with no bread.
When we look we can see only ourselves, our darkness. When we read, it is invisible words which cannot be grasped, thoughts we cannot clutch, hope we cannot capture.
Yet the wild honey remains a taste in our mouth, a memory for a new day.
Why have you brought us here? What miracle will you perform for us?
The darkness sighs around us, dense with your unseen presence, close to our breathing, close to our breathing.
O darkness, enlighten us, embrace us with your invisible love. Let us see your glory in the ashes. Take us by the hand that we may trust the darkness. Minister to us by your Spirit that we may not be afraid. Jesus, keep the beasts away.
Amen
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