Ash Wednesday

Remember that you are from dust, and to dust you shall return.

I love this season in the church more than any other - the season compelling us to look inside and dig a little deeper. We spend time in introspection so that we may better our lives and ourselves today – not in some far off, imaginable future. It is a time to enjoy the darkness, for the darkness speaks of the depth in the light to come, and if the possibilities looming for change.

Since it is midweek and thus I’m in Chicago, I snuck quietly into an unknown little Lutheran church in Lakeview for the evening service. These days I cannot go into a Lutheran church without being absolutely seeped with emotion. How comforting is it that I can step into an unknown ELCA church anywhere and know the ritual of the liturgy will bring some familiarity? Beyond the liturgy, however, is the fact that every piece of it screams of my father. I feel the presence of his absence ever so strongly in the church, and especially during this season of Lent. It was his favorite place, his favorite time of the church year, as evidenced in my innate longing for his being during this time.

Tonight I also couldn’t stop thinking about the rest of my family and the long-gone days of being able to go to church together. All of the time I feel more tightly drawn to my sibs in our common history, and the older I get the more I realize the many ways no one else will know me as well as a result of our shared histories. I truly miss their presence during these celebrated moments of ritual. A far off dream is that someday Paul and my children will say the same – they will embrace the infinite value of family, the irreplaceable love and understanding amongst the typical familial dysfunction.

On that note, of member of my aforementioned sibling quartet deserves special recognition in this post. My dear sister Rachel will be celebrating her birthday tomorrow! In honor of her day, some of my favorite Rach memories…

Walking to elementary school together…taking turns carrying her trumpet and dodging the crab apples being thrown at us by the fifth grade boys. For sure I was proud that she had helped me tight roll my jeans before leaving the house.

Going to watch her sing in high school for Joynites and swing choir concerts. I was pretty convinced there was nothing cooler than my sister(s) in those moments of high school music bliss.

When she came to watch me practice for Pomalink auditions despite the fact that she was totally opposed to my auditioning. That’s love.

Musicals. What more can I say?

Singing that one duet from Miss Saigon at the piano in the living room…what is the name of that again Rach?

One fateful summer in Florid when she gave me the Vagina Monologues for "beach reading." Oh if she even knew how she opened my naïve little eyes in that simple act…

Talking on the phone my first semester of college and the realization that I was growing up – and that my sister and I could talk not just as sisters but also as friends.

Her support and laughter during the wedding prep and process – sucking it up more than once for my sake.

So Rachel, my brilliant and beautiful sister, may you be celebrated and showered with love on your day. I have looked up to you for as long as I can remember, big sis of mine! Loves.