I Feel Like Dirt

Good morning…

Yesterday, after my second sleep, I woke to a thought provoking poem sent by a friend. Slowly, I read it aloud to myself, thinking, “What a gorgeous way to begin Ash Wednesday.”

As we journey into the invitation of this Lenten season, might we each take a moment to savor these words which are blown like seeds of a dandelion, from friend to friend?

******

“Blessing the Dust” by Jan Richardson

All those days
you felt like dust,
like dirt,
as if all you had to do
was turn your face
toward the wind
and be scattered
to the four corners

or swept away
by the smallest breath
as insubstantial—

Did you not know
what the Holy One
can do with dust?

This is the day
we freely say
we are scorched.

This is the hour
we are marked
by what has made it
through the burning.

This is the moment
we ask for the blessing
that lives within
the ancient ashes,
that makes its home
inside the soil of
this sacred earth.

So let us be marked
not for sorrow.
And let us be marked
not for shame.
Let us be marked
not for false humility
or for thinking
we are less
than we are

but for claiming
what God can do
within the dust,
within the dirt,
within the stuff
of which the world
is made,
and the stars that blaze
in our bones,
and the galaxies that spiral
inside the smudge
we bear.

******

Later I walked with this friend to and from the horse farm, verbally unpacking the dust of our lives. We marveled at what God is doing with the ordinary dirt of our every day. Within our families. Within our work. Within our hearts, which seek to shed non-essentials for Lent.

Within the hour, I was sitting in the sanctuary of Northside Church, enjoying the sacredness of the noontime Ash Wednesday service. People I love. Scriptures and songs. An inspiring message. Touching prayers. Midway through worship, one of my favorite pastors stepped up to the microphone to read us a poem. Sure enough, it was Blessing the Dust by Jan Richardson.