Blowin' in the Wind. . . .

"For dust you are 

   and to dust you will return.” 

-- Genesis 3:19b

(This may be good news, or it may be other news. But I have decided to attempt to blog every day throughout this period of Lent. Thus begins a personal journey undertaken publicly. My prayer is that somehow, my words, my heart, my journey might speak to yours.)

First of all-- no, this is not a repeat of yesterday's post. But after receiving the sign of the cross on my forehead, my mind is still on ashes. 

Formed from dust. Returning to dust. This mortal cloak we wear-- dust.

I remember one of the first times over the last ten-plus years when I have been a part of scattering the ashes of a family member. 

My husband's mother had always been very, very clear about her wishes. Every time she would take a trip, she would gather us 'round, remind us of where she kept her will, and tell us again: She did not want to be buried in a box. She wanted to be cremated. Returned to the dust from which she believed she was formed.

(Of course, Rich and I were always uncomfortable with the conversations-- but in the end, we were grateful. There was no question.)

The family gathered at the edge of a large field. It was fall, a lovely time of year, crisp and clear. Rich opened the box that held the ashes, stopped and took a breath. He said a few words-- long since gone from my mind-- and took a handful of ashes and allowed them to be carried off in the breeze. 

I don't think one is ever quite prepared for this moment of watching the Spirit Wind lift these ashes like a delicate plume of smoke, rising and disappearing in a moment's time-- just as our very lives last but a blink of an eye in the scheme of God's kairos time.

It's a beautiful thing. 

And for me, there is something about knowing that when I think of these saints whom I have loved, my memory is not directed to one specific place. They have been released from their earthly fetters, travelled on the breeze and are near, in heart and mind, wherever I am.

Yes, I can go to camp and sit near the lake where Rich was set free. But he isn't just there. 

His true memory lives in our hearts, our minds-- and in the way we treat one another.

Heavenly Father, as we journey forward we remember the saint leading the way, those we have loved who also loved us. May we be aware of their holy presence still in our lives, today and each day, cheering us on as we run the race set before us. Amen.