Ash Wednesday

There once was a person who traveled at the speed of light. You know the kind, the kind that can juggle three balls at once while balancing the checkbook and mowing the lawn. As you might expect, people looking on marveled at one so innately talented. Encouraged by their praise, the person sought to do more and more. 

What people didn’t know was that this person used motion like an alcoholic uses booze. Instead of dealing with emotions, the person crawled into a car, instead of a bottle, and pressed the gas so the world and all its challenges would become a blur. It worked, too, until the car ran out of gas. All the emotions the person tried to avoid were waiting when the car came to a stop.

I thought of this person when I drove by a church in my area today. Never had I seen a drive-through Ash Wednesday service, but I am sure it’s enormously popular in our busy world. If one can get ashes on the fly, he or she wouldn’t have to sit in silence, say words of confession, or hear about giving things up for Lent. If one can get ashes outside, he or she won’t have to go inside, and, after all, going inside is what so many of us try to avoid.