February 2002

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It's Ash Wednesday. I know participating in the various observances of the day has a lot of meaning for some people. It is, however, one of those days I don't observe anymore, and quit doing so long before I quit otherwise going to church.

I got my fill of it a couple of times when I participated in Ash Wednesday services that contained a special that-day-only Confession of Sin (corporate version, not individual) in which the congregation was basically supposed to confess to being the scum of the earth. I don't see myself as being that, so when we'd get to the passages I objected to, I'd just shut up. After the second year, I decided I could just skip the whole thing.

I often wonder exactly what it was that the 20th Century writers of that confession were thinking as they wrote. It was Biblically based, but listed out an array of wrongs only possible after the Industrial Revolution.

I see myself as being one of God's children, who receives His love and grace because He wants to give it. I know that a lot of people don't see themselves in that light, and I understand.

* * * * * * * * * * *

A few years ago, a friend and I were both doing hospital duty, she watching over a very ill child (who is fine now), and me watching over Mother. We saw each other this afternoon, and the topic of conversation went back to those days, briefly.

I didn't tell her, but what I remembered most vividly about our mutual time is that although in a lot of ways our worries were similar, there was a huge difference: her child had the potential for a long life ahead, and Mother did not.

I don't think I'm saying this very well. I wasn't jealous; I just knew that even if my mother lived through that third stroke and its aftermath, it was extremely unlikely that she would make a dramatic recovery. I am delighted that my friend's child did recover, and that he is thriving.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Speaking of recovering children: Doug has really good news about his great-grandchild tonight.