I remember as a youngster going to church early on the morning of one Ash Wednesday with my parents. Not being too sure why we were in church during the middle of the week––hadn‘t we just been to church this Sunday?––I wasn‘t much enthused as a participant in the sacred liturgy. Neither was I thrilled about having been pulled out of bed so early in the morning when clearly school wouldn‘t start for another hour and a half. Couldn‘t I just get ten more minutes of sack-time? Groggily, I followed the rest of the sleep-deprived up the aisle at an early point in the service. There, at the front of the altar, the priest was doing some-thing to the foreheads of each person, mumbling something-or-other about dust. When it came my turn, the priest bent over me, smudged his thumb in a bowl of black stuff, and proceeded to deposit some on my forehead, tiny flakes of the stuff falling to my nose and causing me to giggle. It was only after the service that I was informed by my parents that the ―black stuff‖ was ashes and that Ash Wednesday was a time when we were reminded that we are mortal human beings who will one day return to the earth from whence we came. (Why we were not smudged with dirt from the parish gardens, or dust from behind the organ bench, I do not know. Perhaps be-cause they were too dirty and the ladies of the church might not have appreciated the priest digging around the petunias and morning glories? Or perhaps we Episcopalians were too clean to have any dust behind the organ bench? Anyway, I guess ashes are more dignified than dirt: after all, it‘s not Dirt Wednesday, is it?). Years later I now realize the meaning behind the ritual and have come to find it‘s poignancy a beautiful and appropriate reminder of ancient ceremonies of communal repentance wherein entire communities would mark the occasion by the wearing of sackcloth and ashes. Such periods of penance also required abstention from sumptuous meals and frivolous entertainments and penitents were called to be more charitable toward the poor and needy. We in the Church of Christ follow this practice in our own observances during Lent. We do not go around in sackcloth anymore––thanks be to God! But we are called to a time of inner re-flection on the ways we have failed to be all that Christ intends for us. We purposely abstain from some of the ―extras‖ we take so much for grant-ed during the rest of the year––extra helpings at dinner, buying things we really don‘t need––and we ―take on‖ some things we don‘t normally do––reading scripture or other spiritual works, engaging in daily pray or meditation, volunteer-ing our spare time to help others, spending time with our children and talking about God. All these disciplines help remind us who we are as children of God, that everything we are, everything we do, all that we have, comes from a God who loves and cares for us. And they help us to be more intentional in our faith life. As I learned at an early age, such Lenten practice and observance is not just for adults. Children learn much from the things they see and hear their parents do. They can become engaged in spiritual discipline in ways that often go unnoticed by their elders. It didn‘t matter that I thought it odd that ashes were deposited on my forehead that first day of Lent. What did matter was that something special, something different, was being done. Over the years, I did begin to make the connection between my mortality and Christ‘s gift of immortality. And that‘s what really matters. Plan on joining us for worship this Lent, beginning on Ash Wednesday, February 6. Our 5:30 PM worship that day will be, perhaps, a bit more child-friendly than the services of my youth, so I hope that our families will make a special effort to be with us. May this Lent be a time of spiritual growth and encouragement for you all. Thanks be to God!