Ash Wednesday

It had to be about six years ago I was throwing back brews with my cousin Allie in Tacoma.  I remember these people coming in with ashes on their forehead.  I think that we even had the conversation saying its Ash Wednesday, and me calling family back home to see what it meant, it was around midnight at home and well my reception was less than welcomed by my mother.  It obviously didn't stick with me, because the only thing I remember about that night was Allie doing karaoke to Sammy Kershaw.  On the 19th of February 2009 my brother was killed, so now your wondering what does that have to do with Ash Wednesday?  It really doesn't at all?  The following Wednesday a bunch of us cousins met at The Eagles Club to finalize the plans for my nieces benefit taking place that Sunday.  I guess one could say I "headed" up the benefit, but it was a family event.  I remember sitting there still in shock over Ryan's death, I stood up and said, "I gotta go, I can't be here".  I remember the looks of shock, but no one said anything to my face.  I left and was going to go home, I drove by my church and seen the cars.  I remembered it was Ash Wednesday.  My eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and the endless flow of tears from the past week, I was wearing a wore out Gap sweatshirt, jeans, and looked technically "Tough", living off no sleep, Diet Pepsi, and Cigarettes does wonders to an appearance.   I somehow parked and walked into church.  I'm going to be honest I grew up in the faith, and up until that point was the kind of person that after I graduated from High School, went to church during Easter, Christmas, and any other time the kids sang in church.  I didn't know the meaning of Ash Wednesday.  Looking back if I did, I probably would not have went that night.  I sat in the back pew by myself and cried the entire service, not a cry where tears streamed down.  This was the ugly cry that made no noise, I'm not sure if I had any noises left to make.  That day in church made a profound impact on my own spirituality.  Today four days later I again went to Ash Wednesday service, I did pretty good until I knew that the point  of ashes being put on our forehead were suppose to take place.  I flashed back to that place where I was four years ago.  To the girl standing before my Pastor holding on to some type of hope that tomorrow was going to bring a new day, and that even though I wasn't worthy of salvation, maybe God could make an exception.  I made it through tonight, shed many tears.  I don't really know why though.  I can't pinpoint a certain reason why I was crying.  Ash Wednesday service isn't the most uplifting service when you think about it.  It does talk about death, but it also gives us the hope of resurrection.  I still have the ashes on my forehead and tomorrow morning they will be smudged on my pillow.  I'm just not ready to wash them off, tomorrow I pray that I will be strong enough to not need a physical reminder on why Jesus died for my sins, the ashes are only temporary, the word is forever.