Tonight was my first Ash Wednesday. I almost did not make it.

There I was, hastily working to finish some planning documents for a Board committee meeting for my boss when I started feeling ill.  I kept clacking away at the keyboard.  I thought it was something else and ended up fainting because I was oblivious as to what was really taking place within my body.  One of the Board members knows I have diabetes and knew what what wrong.  God watched over me in that moment to be sure.  But I heartily wish I could understand this disease.  I suspect the death knell for me was a wee piece of chocolate after lunch.  Not some gigantic slab of chocolate cake with real peanut butter icing topped with crushed Reese's peanut butter cups.  It was quite small and rather insignificant.  No matter that I barely registered its richness upon my tongue.  I believe I had not consumed sufficient food prier to taking in this illicit morsel.  Apparently 16 pieces of tasty asparagus does not a full meal make.

[I do not know why, but I have become a sauteed-with-olive-oil-and-garlic-salt asparagus junkie, even devouring it cold.  Bettina brought me three huge bunches of it last Friday.  There is nary a stalk left in my refrigerator.]

My boss already knew I wanted to go to church this evening and was willing for me to depart.  However, keeling over does not inspire confidence to get behind the wheel of the car and do so.  Part of me felt like just making my way home to collapse on the couch.  But El's earlier words to me kept ringing in my ears...this is my first year as a Lutheran; I wanted to experience the imposition of ashes, I wanted to hear the Living Word for this season, and I wanted to have the sweet medicine that is the Lord's Supper.

The liturgy was wonderful!  While I wish that I knew the hymns, there was one which I did not bother to try and sing, but simply allowed it to wash over me.  Words of what we have in Christ, who we are in Christ.  In Christ.  We also prayed a litany, which I savored for its words for me, as well as those for you.

Earlier, I was talking with a woman from my old parish, wishing we would be at the same service together.  She surprised me by saying that we would be. We were already together in the death and resurrection we shared with Christ in our baptism. We would together again as we each took in His body and blood because closed communion actually means close communion, close with those who share in the Lutheran confession.

Call me silly, but though we were miles apart, I felt as if she was standing there with me at the rail. Sort of like the joy of fellowship I find in knowing I am not alone in reveling in the Living Word each day via the Treasury of Daily Prayer.

I came home and spent a long time looking in the mirror.

"Remember, O man, that you are dust and to dust you shall return. But the ashes are place on in the shape of a cross -- we are indeed dying, but we die in hope of Him who became dust and ashes for us and who raised that dust to a resurrection life that will never end and of which He even now grants us a share." (Pastor W)

A share of life.  A share of grace.  A share of mercy.  A share of forgiveness.  Shares born and bought by death.  Being clothed with Christ took on new meaning for me this evening.  

Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!