A Wednesday in March

My mom asked me to stay for dinner,
“We’re having baked macaroni and cheese
with fish sticks.”
“It’s not Friday.” I said .

“No, it’s Ash Wednesday,” she replied and continued
with “Where are your Ashes?”
Holidays and holydays had become a blur
in my memory years ago.
After spending 12 years in parochial school,
I had done my time in purgatory,
going to church was now limited
to weddings and funerals.

However, my mother is a true believer
in the Catholic Church.
A mother of ten, a Eucharistic minister
in St. Joseph’s and so observant,
she’d become the first female priest if the
Church ever allowed that to happen.
“Forgot all about it,” I answered and left it at that.

I never turn down a free meal.

So after dinner she asked “Where are you going?”
“I‘m meeting the guys at the bar on Broadway,” I answered.
“I’m going that way I’ll give you a ride,” she offered.
“Fine with me, thanks Mom.”

I never turn down a free ride either.

So we drove down Broadway headed toward the bar
when she unexpectedly turned right into
St. Joseph’s parking lot.
“Go get your ashes.” was all my mother said.
I looked at her in disbelief, then at the church,
and then back at my mother.
The look in her eyes said it all.

I got out of the car without an argument
and hoped lightning wouldn’t strike
when I entered the vestibule.

Once inside the church there was a short line moving
fast as the priest dabbed each patron with ashes
on his forehead with the emotionless recitation,
“Thou art from ashes and to ashes thou shalt return.”

But when he got to me, the priest looked me in the eyes
and said,
”Give up your sinful ways and repent in the grace of the Lord.”

My jaw dropped and I got the hell out there wondering
how this guy knew me.

I got back in the car and didn’t say anything to my mom.

She pulled up in front of the bar and I as I got out of the car,
She gave the parting shot,
”It is Lent and you should give up something.
Like maybe drinking and hanging out with your rowdy friends.”
“Thanks mom I’ll think about it.”
And shook my head still in shock with what the priest had said.

Once inside the bar I lit a cigarette and ordered a beer.
Andrea the bar-maid served me and noticing the ashes asked
“So what are you giving up?”
I don’t know,” I replied.
” But I vow to remember next Ash Wednesday
to put the ashes from a cigarette on my head
before I go to my mother’s house.”