To Dust
Thursday, March 10, 2011 at 9:07AM Last night my family and I went to church for Ash Wednesday. I have never thought of myself as a religious person but more of a spiritual person. Religion is important to me because it helps me to stay connected to that spiritual side. It’s my spiritual outlet if you will.
Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent and part of the service is the imposition of ashes on our foreheads. Something that we always do every year. But this year something happened I did not expect.
Normally I sit on the outside of the row. I let me family slide in the pew and I end up on the end. No biggie. Normally that means that I am first in line for Communion and/or Ashes. No biggie. Well this time I was on the opposite side of the family and they all were in line before me. Again, no biggie.
Until Gillian, my daughter who was right in front of me, was getting her ashes.
“Remember Gillian that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” Our pastor recited the words he does every year.
Instantly I felt my heart ache. As I stepped up and received the ashes I could feel tears falling down my face. “to dust you shall return.” Those words were clanging around in my head.
I think a lot about my mortality. Maybe because I am a father I think about it more. Maybe because my dad died when he was 42 I think about even more. Maybe because I have diabetes I think about even more. I am not sure why but I am always thinking about what my kids will do when I am gone. And if my time here is almost up or not.
But when thinking about my own death I think how well adjusted my kids are, how close they are to one another, and how many people that love them so I don’t worry too much. But last night I thought about them “returning to dust” and I lost it. I pray and pray that I will go before they do but I still ache for them. It aches for their future kids, my grandchildren, one day having to say goodbye. It was a really weird moment. I have never thought about that before and I did not expect it to crush me the way it did.
The rest of the service I sat staring up at the cross with tears flowing like a steady faucet. I couldn’t stop it.
I understand and except death as a natural part of the life cycle. Spiritually I see death as the beginning of a new life somewhere else. But my kids will always be my kids and the thought of them having their heart broken or their car stolen makes me sick to my stomach.
Anything that would ever hurt them hurts me more. Maybe that means I am too protective? Maybe I am sissy and not man enough to not let things get to me. I don’t care really.
I do believe that all those hurts and pains help shape us into people who understand the world. As much as it pains me I know they need to get hurt. It is just inevitable.
But still, the thought of them one day dying really stings.
I love them more than anything.
Reader Comments (6)
George this is the second time today this subject came up and made me cry. This morning a old George Strait song came on that I haven't heard in years. I think it's called A Fathers Love. If you ever have the opportunity read the words. This was a truly beautiful post. Thank you for sharing this.
Know the feeling George. You have my respect for sharing it.
Something came to my mind as I read your post. Death breeds happiness. Bare with me for another line.
I'm into optimizing stuff. Like me. Like D. Like happiness. There is a theory, which has been scientifically proven; that thinking of death for 5 minutes results in you being able to smile more.
Hope that was the result during the rest of the day.
PS.
Last month I spent 2 weeks in hospital with my 4-year old. I know of what you speak. Pain beyond measure.
And in that case, due to all the adrenaline, an average #bgnow of ~200. ;)
DS.
You know, hon, we all need to be reminded how fragile life is. But also to find the balance not to dwell on it, or it'll make you nuts.
Last weekend me and my niece E went to a paint your plate place. We each did our own design and then I wrote on hers, "Auntie and E - 2011" and felt like was going to collapse on the floor, sobbing. Will she look back on the plate and remember me? I think so.
Contemplating one's own mortality is tough, really tough. Can I say that nearly dying 3 times last September has made me a different person? I'm still workig on it.
I've never thought of the ash wednesday ritual to be like that. thanks for reminding me. life is not short. it is precious. you are blessed by seeing life in your family.
Powerful post George.
We can't understand the way God delivers his messages to us, but knowing that he is always there with us, and will comfort us and carry us through the hardest of times, helps. Doesn't make it easy, but it helps.
I've had many of these same feelings and now that I have grandchildren, well, they're just magnified. Watching these babies grow up in a fallen world is really, really hard. I would take on all of their pain in a moment, if I only could.
But then I remember that as much as I love them, God loves them more. And that brings me the "peace that passes all understanding".
Don't get down on yourself for having a tender heart, George. You have the gift of mercy. I do, too, and it often brings me to tears, but it also brings me to my knees...right where God wants me.
Keep looking up. Draw near to God and he will draw near to you.
I love the idea that thinking of death causes us to smile more.