Remember that you are dust...
Ashes smear my forehead, spread by a minister at the Cathedral a few blocks from my apartment in downtown Fresno. This morning was chilly and foggy, an appropriate winter chill cloaking our valley after an unseasonably warm few days. Yesterday I shared a beer at a favorite local spot and reminisced on the past few weeks and on the resolve that I bring into this new season. As I sipped the dregs of the delicious IPA and wondered how long the last taste would linger on my tongue, my thoughts turned to this turn of the calendar, to this next forty days, to fasting, prayer, and generosity. Lent has begun. Over the years the season has brought new meanings for me. For most, Lent means giving something up. There's an awful movie made about some dude giving up sex for an entire 40 days, and that's saying something about how relevant this observance is. Truth is, I was barely more reverent. I gave up meat during my freshman year in college, and that proved too difficult. I think I