Silence

 "How strange it feels,

so right and so good,

to move forward together,

wearing our finitude like a badge -

a mess of ash,

a reminder:

you are dust,

and to dust you shall return."

Kate Bowler

Peanut and I attended the 12:00 pm Ash Wednesday service at church today.

The day time service does not include music.

Where a hymn would be during a regular Sunday Eucharist service, there is silence.

I noticed a few things today as we sat in the silence.

First, the music tells us what to do. The pianist starts and we stand. The pianist finishes and we sit.

Second, the music fills the transition. As we sit and wait for this or that, there is music.

Today I was overwhelmed by the silence?

It felt fitting for Ash Wednesday.

On Ash Wednesday you take a moment to wrestle with your own mortality.

From dust you came and to dust you shall return.

As someone who has experienced 3 tough losses in the last 4 months, I'm reminded intensely how much death is very much a part of life.

I have purposefully not shielded Peanut from this. We have been to hospitals. We have been to hospice situations. We have sat with those grieving. We have taken meals, we have held hands, we have sent cards. We have showed up in the dying, the grieving, and the silence afterwards.

As I sat in the silence today, I recognized how uncomfortable silence can be.

You see in the silence, it's just you and God.

In this season of wilderness wandering in Lent, silence seems fitting.

This morning I wrestled with what I hoped to gain in this Lenten season.

I hope to be fully present in each moment.

To learn to sit in the silence.

To wrestle with what I've done and left undone.

To mend that which is broken.

Mama Warriors, whether or not your tradition celebrates Lent, this time of wandering toward Easter is present for many of us.

I encourage you to take a moment each day to sit in the silence.

To remember from dust you came and to dust you shall return.