An Ash Wednesday Story

Today is Ash Wednesday - the first day of Lent.  My family and I are Catholics and I typically both look forward to and dread this season of "giving something up that I really enjoy" (technically, though, it is referred to as the season of penance, alms giving and fasting).  Each year the children are more aware and capable of participating in the season and I enjoy sharing it with them.  In the past, they would participate in the alms-giving by putting some of their allowance in a donation box that we give to the church on Easter which supports the charity Catholic Relief Services (CRS).  This year, they have engaged in many conversations about what to "give up" for Lent.  My six year old son decided to give up Nutella - a key ingredient in his favorite breakfast.  My nine year old daughter has chosen not to share her sacrifice and that is just fine with me but has inspired her brother to launch numerous suggestions her way, all of them received with barely concealed contempt and dramatic eye-rolling.  I like Ash Wednesday.  It is not a requirement to attend church on this day, but I always do so because I like the tradition and I like to take the children with me.  So, we all went to church before school this morning and we all got ashes on out foreheads. 

I have never felt weird about having them on my face (even though at some point in my day some stranger will inevitably pull me aside to advise me that I "have something" on my forehead), but this time the children were really self-conscious and didn't want to keep them on at school.  My daughter was especially upset. She hates to attract attention to herself under almost all circumstances, and at her age I suppose attention for being "different" is the worst kind.  I also think she was afraid I would be disappointed in her for feeling that way. I felt disappointment, yes. Thankfully, I was able to sort out my own feelings quickly enough to let her know that I was only disappointed that she wasn't feeling the happiness inside that I was feeling, and that I would not be upset at her if she wanted to wipe off the ashes before she went to school. She apologized over and over, and I said, "Please don't apologize to me.  You don't owe me an apology.  You haven't done anything to me and I am not disappointed in you."  "I know," she said.  After a pause, I said, "Do you think you might be disappointed that you don't feel the same way I feel about the ashes, and maybe you wish weren't worried about what others will think or say about them?"  Amazingly enough, she said "yes" to that, and so I said, "Well, that is ok too.  You can pray about that and maybe some day your feelings will change or they won't, but either way they are your feelings."  When we got to school she hugged me and thanked me for taking her to church. It was sweet. I am so grateful that I didn't get all authoritarian on her and thereby force her to sneak off and wash her ashes off in the school bathroom and then be left feeling ashamed, like she had done something wrong and had to hide it from me.  I am glad I didn't ruin Ash Wednesday for my daughter.  It can be so hard sometimes to know when to hold the line and when to bend, but in the end, my children's spirituality has to come from inside of them and it has to resonate with their own beings.