Awkward Wednesday

I’ll be walking around with a black smudge on my forehead today.

I always feel a little funny about it, every year when Ash Wednesday rolls around and I go to church, receive my ashes, traced in a cross on my face, and a go around wearing my religion in such an obvious fashion. I wind up feeling awkward. And I do it anyway.

Most people will ignore the dark smear. If they notice, they rarely say anything. Occasionally, some well-meaning person will try to bring it to my attention, like I don’t know there’s this big dark mark right above my eyes, partially concealed by my bangs. But if someone were to ask, “Hey, what’s that stuff on your face?” Here’s what I’d tell them.

It’s there to remind me that someday I will die.

And if they didn’t run away or call the funny farm to haul me off, I’d follow that provocative statement by saying that it also reminds me to be humble. And to apologize for the wrongs I’ve done. To remind me to not be too full of myself. To practice gratitude. To be generous. To share what I have with others who maybe aren’t as fortunate as I am. And yes, it’s there to remind me of death and resurrection. That too.

All awkward belief stuff that makes people feel uncomfortable sometimes. Hard to discuss. Difficult to explain.

You probably won’t bump into me today, you who are reading this post in some far away place. But it you did, you’d see that smudge and you’d know me for what I am: a struggling, flawed, and imperfect person who wants to do better. Somebody who loses sleep at night worrying about stuff that didn't get done on time (dark circles under eyes to color coordinate with the ashes). Someone who feels terribly sad when bad things happen (in Haiti, in Huntsville). A person who has faith and wrestles with doubt and hopes for the best. That would be me. Feel free to stop me and say hello.