The Ashes that Stick 🕊️
Ash Wednesday always takes me back.
Parochial school meant the whole class walked to church in the middle of the day. Already exciting. And then the ashes. Quiet line. Serious faces. Secret question running through every kid's head: is this priest heavy-handed or light-handed? You wanted everyone to notice that cross on your forehead.
Either way, you wore the ashes. It meant you did it right. You showed up.
I wasn't as consistent with my own kids. Public school made Ash Wednesday harder. More logistics, more coordination, more "we'll try." And then they grew up and made their own choices.
Which is why getting a photo from them on Ash Wednesday a couple of years ago stopped me cold.
No reminder. No nudging. Just them, showing up.
No matter your tradition — or even if you don't have one — rituals matter. They anchor us. They create memory, belonging, and quiet pride. They give ordinary days meaning.
Ashes fade. The showing up doesn't.