We’ve all seen signs on doors, walls and buildings that explain why things are neat and tidy as usual. Renovations mean dust will be in the air and on every nearby surface. Nothing new comes without some dust along the way.
A few years ago I was ankle-deep in dust. I was visiting my then 21-year-old daughter who was doing a summer volunteer stint as director of the trail crew at Holden Village in the Cascade Mountains of Washington. A year earlier, portions of the national forest in the Cascade Mountains were ravaged by forest fires. The picturesque mountain sides that encapsulated Holden Village were charred. Tree trunks stood tall with attention, but with no limbs or foliage, their blackened bark exposed. and the forest floor was covered with layers of ash.
One afternoon during my visit, my daughter, a hiking companion, and I went for a hike. Just as we reached the end, and were about to turn around and return to the village, my daughter hopped over a guardrail at the side of the trail and with a sense of adventure asked, “Do you want to go back another way?”
I knew the answer immediately. “No! No, I do not want to go back another way!” Everyone knows one of the rules of hiking is “stay on the trail.” Before I fully realized what was happening, our hiking companion followed her over the guardrail, and I was right behind him. I did not see any alternative trail. My daughter assured me we would eventually come to an old trail, that had not been fully restored, yet, but could be traversed. So, off we went.
The further we walked, the steeper the way became. There were narrow portions — just wide enough for one foot. Meaning we had to walk and balance on the side of the mountain one foot just in front of the other. and each step put us in ash up to our ankles. It was like treading through 8 or 10 inches of in fine snow or sand, except it was dusty and dirty. With every step we were reminded of the death and devastation that had roared through that forest. and now we trudged through its remains.
With each step, I was certain that I did not want to go back another way. But by that point it was too late. It would be even more challenging, if not impossible for me to climb back up to the beautiful, groomed trail we were on before.
Eventually, we did come upon the remains of an old trail. We could see the faint outline of a trail through the ash. But it was still thick with ash and came up over our boots, filling them with dry, dusty ash. In some spots it was so bad, we had to cover our faces to avoid the dangers of breathing it in.
No, I did not want to go back another way. There was too much danger and uncertainty for me. It was challenging. I had to trust that my daughter knew what she was doing, that she was leading us back to the village by another way. And, quite frankly it was at that point that I really began to go back another way … not just in terms of terrain … mentally, emotionally and spiritually.
I went out on that hike with my daughter: the one I’d been mothering and nurturing, protecting and raising since she was conceived. I was returning, led by my adult daughter — strong and competent, skilled and capable. Something shifted for me on that trail. I could feel it with every step that brought dusty ash up over my feet and spilling into my hiking boots. I could see it through watery eyes, irritated by the dusty ash our feet kicked up. I could hear it in her voice that called out where to step and which direction to take. My relationship with her changed as we went back another way. My role as a mother decreased and our role together began to transition to an adult to adult level. This is the gift of new life … changed life that came out of the ashes that day. Ever since, I’ve not been able to look at ashes in the same way.
Next Wednesday, Feb. 14, many of us in the Christian tradition will observe Ash Wednesday by receiving ashes, marked on our forehead. The ashes are a sign of going a different way.
So, pardon our dust! This season offers us all an opportunity for spiritual remodeling and rebuilding.
Could this be a season to go down a new path in our relationship with a difficult family member? Is there a new path you can take that sheds new light on a worry or problem? Could the limitations you experience with an aging body or failures offer a new path of learning what it’s really like to live by God’s grace? Going back another way could be traveling down a new path and discovering the power of forgiveness and reconciliation.
Do you want to go back another way?
The Rev. LaDonna Thomas is pastor of St. Paul Lutheran Church, 1123 Washington St., in the Lanesville section of Gloucester.