To ashes we go because from ashes we came. As life moves forward how quickly do we forget from which we came. How quickly do we forget that at the base of who we are is who we were. we can’t escape our past. we can’t. If today’s culture isn’t a big enough reminder (see John Edwards), our skeletons will come out of the closet. Our secrets will get out.. but there isn’t a certain freedom in remembering the ashes from whence we came? is there a certain freedom in not letting our past haunt us but rather letting it be a base to grow from?

Isn’t it true, that we can’t know the sweet taste of grace until we have realized we’ve been drinking from the cup of bitterness?