Today I am thinking about the ashes that were on my head yesterday, the words "You came from dust and to dust you will return," and the words of a song that I sang "Have mercy on us."
Ashes: Black, smudged, cold, not attractive. But I saw them on everyone's head, even the small children. We are all marked and smudged, blackened.
"You came from dust and to dust you will return": We all know this, but hearing those words was significant. And hearing those words said to everyone around me made it more clear. We are all in the same predicament: a dying one.
"Have mercy on us": With the ashes on my head and the dust words in my ears, these words brought tears to my eyes. It is a desperate need for a desperate predicament. These are the only words that make sense when wearing ashes.
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