It's one of those days when thoughts of good ol' times come. Days when an ACE comb is the most important accessory a full-headed young man must have. Yes I once had both: hair and comb. The former so full, so black, so thick growing on my head; the latter in my Levi's back pocket or tucked inside my right foot sock for easy access anytime, anywhere.
Ash Wednesdays then were far different. I had to prepare my forehead. You can't let hair bangs get in the way of the cross. Well, words to that effect.
A quick fix then would be to reach in for that comb, one brush stroke across the top of the head to the left and another across the top to the right. Then you're all set to line up. When lining up, make sure to avoid electric fans lest a second helping from the ace hardware is needed.
After getting the forehead crossed, the bangs now plays the role of a cross protector, securing it from erosion. During my early years, I thought it was sacrilegious not to keep the ashes till the next shower. Therefore the need for the guardian bangs.
Those days are gone. So are the bangs.
This morning, I sort of gave the lay minister a harder time. With so much space to work on, my now extended forehead becomes a canvas. Will it be the Chi-Rho, the Jerusalem cross or the Papal cross? Big cross, small cross? Plain cross or crucifix? (Imagine that, a crucifix sculptured in pulverized charcoal above my eyes. That's Here's Lookin' at You Kid at a different level!)
While queueing, I was arguing in my mind what to give up this lent. I am reminded of the Sabbath article I read last night that struck me deep penetrating my gut:
We sacrifice not for sacrifice's sake. The suffering and pain that accompanies our sacrifices do not make our sacrifices holy. What makes them holy is the love that motivates them. When suffering is borne out of love, we become more like Him. -Fr. Joel Jason, (Sabbath, Shepherd's Voice Publications)
So it's not just what to give up. It's who to give them up for.
Walking towards the ash minister I got to some serious thinking:
Maybe give up shopping FOR my wife and kids;
Or daily clean the house, the cars, the laundry FOR my family and relatives and friends who visit occasionally;
Give up meat FOR the fishermen and veggie farmers on EVEN days;
Give up fish and vegetables FOR the cattlemen and hog raisers on ODD days;
Fair is fair. Everyone happy.
I know, I know. There's the context in those striking words that I am out of.
Maybe I'll put my life on hold for 40 days to ensure it could advance.
See the beauty in the boring mundane part of life.
Give up anger and say a little prayer FOR that dude that cut me off.
Give up comfort FOR someone who needs it.
Hold those thoughts. Am now just two strides away from Mr. Minister.
Then finally, a black cross on my forehead. Not too fancy. Not silently screaming if you know what I mean. It was, hmmm, a humble cross befitting the season. I actually liked it.
It didn't last long, though. With nothing to break the gravitational flow of perspiration from the top of my head, it was crossed out. But I'm not as bothered anymore. What's more important for me now is not what's on my forehead, but what's in my heart. Uh-huh!
Afterall, what's in there lasts
Long after what's on top have faded away -bangs, ashes and all.
Ash Wednesdays then were far different. I had to prepare my forehead. You can't let hair bangs get in the way of the cross. Well, words to that effect.
After getting the forehead crossed, the bangs now plays the role of a cross protector, securing it from erosion. During my early years, I thought it was sacrilegious not to keep the ashes till the next shower. Therefore the need for the guardian bangs.
Those days are gone. So are the bangs.
This morning, I sort of gave the lay minister a harder time. With so much space to work on, my now extended forehead becomes a canvas. Will it be the Chi-Rho, the Jerusalem cross or the Papal cross? Big cross, small cross? Plain cross or crucifix? (Imagine that, a crucifix sculptured in pulverized charcoal above my eyes. That's Here's Lookin' at You Kid at a different level!)
While queueing, I was arguing in my mind what to give up this lent. I am reminded of the Sabbath article I read last night that struck me deep penetrating my gut:
We sacrifice not for sacrifice's sake. The suffering and pain that accompanies our sacrifices do not make our sacrifices holy. What makes them holy is the love that motivates them. When suffering is borne out of love, we become more like Him. -Fr. Joel Jason, (Sabbath, Shepherd's Voice Publications)
So it's not just what to give up. It's who to give them up for.
Walking towards the ash minister I got to some serious thinking:
Maybe give up shopping FOR my wife and kids;
Or daily clean the house, the cars, the laundry FOR my family and relatives and friends who visit occasionally;
Give up meat FOR the fishermen and veggie farmers on EVEN days;
Give up fish and vegetables FOR the cattlemen and hog raisers on ODD days;
Fair is fair. Everyone happy.
I know, I know. There's the context in those striking words that I am out of.
Maybe I'll put my life on hold for 40 days to ensure it could advance.
See the beauty in the boring mundane part of life.
Give up anger and say a little prayer FOR that dude that cut me off.
Give up comfort FOR someone who needs it.
Hold those thoughts. Am now just two strides away from Mr. Minister.
Then finally, a black cross on my forehead. Not too fancy. Not silently screaming if you know what I mean. It was, hmmm, a humble cross befitting the season. I actually liked it.
Afterall, what's in there lasts
Long after what's on top have faded away -bangs, ashes and all.
