I remember that I am but dust
Okay, maybe I'm not quite that depressed. But that sentiment is part of the Ash Wednesday mass: "The Lord remembers that we are but dust," (sung repeatedly during Psalm 103) and, at the imposition of ashes, "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." I'll be fifty years old in a few weeks, but I haven't really been thinking about mortality this day. I'm too caught up in my depression over where I am right now, what happened last Friday and what I'm going to do about it. I need to shake the brooding and move on, move into Lent and the reflection about becoming the Karen God wants me to be, the Karen who is most useful, neither self-destructive nor self-pitying, giving but not in ways that encourage misbehavior, forgiving but not a pushover, moving forward instead of being stuck in old habits and past sorrows. The good news of the day is that Father Smith and a few others will take it from here on the church directory; I'm off the hook for that obligation now that they have my 106 photos to work with. And my dad's birthday was today, and he seems to be doing great as usual at age 80-something. He can't remember ever having his birthday on Ash Wednesday before, and played hooky from church to go out to dinner with Ruth and two other birthday couples. Sounds good to me! Meanwhile, for those who worry, let me reassure you I got almost 11 hours of sleep last night. The alarm didn't go off! When I awoke, I was helping to outsmart the odious (Principal Snyderesque) principal of a magical school. Ah, well. Back to the real world!
Ash Wednesday Evangelism by Lauren F. Winner (excerpt from Girl Meets God)