I was taking my mother to Ash Wednesday services when Father Gargantutus stuck his massive thumb the holy ash-pot and put the sign of the cross on my forehead. That was when I saw a falling black snow of soot drifting onto my hands, shirt and pants. I resisted to urge to ask, “How big ya’ making that cross, Padre?” because, for the initiated that sort of banter at the alter is frowned upon. I suppose that I should have been directing my thoughts to heaven, but all I could think was that I couldn’t go through the day looking like this. The ash on my forehead is regulation; a little odd in a country founded by Protestants, perhaps, but I’m used to that.
Ashes, Inflation & a Moral Dilemma
Ashes, Inflation & a Moral Dilemma
Ashes, Inflation & a Moral Dilemma
I was taking my mother to Ash Wednesday services when Father Gargantutus stuck his massive thumb the holy ash-pot and put the sign of the cross on my forehead. That was when I saw a falling black snow of soot drifting onto my hands, shirt and pants. I resisted to urge to ask, “How big ya’ making that cross, Padre?” because, for the initiated that sort of banter at the alter is frowned upon. I suppose that I should have been directing my thoughts to heaven, but all I could think was that I couldn’t go through the day looking like this. The ash on my forehead is regulation; a little odd in a country founded by Protestants, perhaps, but I’m used to that.