What the Ash Said

“Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” The priest words hover as he marks me with a cross. As I return to my pew warmth and the feel of soft ash linger on my forehead like a kiss, as if God Himself bent down.

I’m relieved. I hear the ash saying one day I’ll blow away, be elemental again, fly off into the wind with pleasure. Finally, I’ll slough off all the vanity. It won’t matter the quality of my voice, or hair, or eyes. It won’t matter if I’m styled, or how much success I had, but of course then we’ll all see what mattered the least.

I feel free, as the ash speaks, to let go of this temporary mattering. I hear a voice so sure calling me to release that something that just isn’t me. I loosen my hold on the things I think should be part of my name in this world. I lean into this more humble destiny and hear the ash grin and whisper “God’s dusty child, sealed forever.”