Ash Wednesday....

Ash Wednesday...the start of the Lenten season. And I just barely made it. It was about a quarter past six when I arrived at the Parish of the Holy Sacrifice in U.P. Diliman. Parked cars were packed bumper to bumper on the roads surrounding the chapel. The sun has already set, and there as a gentle, lofty breeze blowing against my face. A lot people were walking as brisk as I am, intent on catching the start of the service. My eyes wandered...at the young couple holding hands…an old lady by herself...a young mother carrying a young girl…a group of students fresh from class...a middle aged couple along with their children. I turned my phone off, stuffed my water bottle in my pocket, and entered the chapel.

The chapel was bursting with people. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. Probably because the day was cool to begin with, with the heavy overcast...partly because of the architecture of the chapel, a dome shape with several huge openings all around. I wasn’t able to sit, but I didn’t mind. Crisp through the speakers and reverberating off the walls was the sound of the choir, accompanied by a lone acoustic guitar...nylon strings. If you listen to guitars long enough, you can tell the difference between nylon and steel.

The service was uneventful...the officiating priest seemed relatively young, and perhaps a bit nervous. Perhaps he was newly ordained? He seemed to speak at rapid rate and occasionally lost cues with the choir and with...what do you call them, lay ministers? Those who read verses and lead the responses...? I guess I forgot. I fell in line to receive my ash mark...I could barely discern what the lay minister said as he applied some ash to my forehead. I used to know it...I guess I forgot. I guess I've been forgetting a lot of things lately. The priest got a few laughs when he suggested that we offer the sign of peace “sincerely” unlike before.

Before the priest gave the final blessings, he elicited more laughter from the audience when he said that he would be giving blessings to lovers on the following Sunday mass. Married couples could renew their vows as well, even those whose husbands or wives are in the province, working abroad, or deceased. I felt a momentary pang of..."pain?” or was it just gas? Had I remained married, I would have been married for eleven years already. Has it been that long? I got separated in 1999, so I guess I have single now longer that I had been married. Seems like so long ago…yet I could still remember...as if it was just yesterday. Yeah...the curse of long term memory...the emotions are all gone...either dissipated in the breeze of the succeeding five years or buried somewhere deep down in the recesses of my existence and forgotten. Perhaps a little of both? Only the disappointment, to some extent remains. Or does it? In less than a second (literally) these thoughts flash through my mind, and in an instant they're all gone again. As it should be. I shrug my shoulders to myself and focus on the service.

The priest said that the start of the Lenten season was a time to remember the sacrifice of Jesus Christ...and a time for change as well. Change. I could use some right about now. I just pray that things work out for once. I have this strange feeling that if this works out, everything else will fall into place. Things will start to make sense again for me. And I can’t wait. Life is too short to remain cynical and full of angst over some past event. Yes. I have to get on with the rest of my life. I'm ready....

I left the church with my head held up high and feeling somewhat light-hearted. I was thankful I was able to get to church this time. I haven’t been going to church as often as I should. And I saw signs. Signs that tell me things are going to get better....