Neglected,
it rests on the corner,
visible to all,
yet ignored by most …
it has been empty
far too long.
This morning,
this day before
Ash Wednesday,
the front of the building
has been painted
a brilliant white
and the windows
on each side
of the entrance door
are now adorned
with new, royal blue awnings.
Yet the “For Sale” sign
is still posted,
weather-worn
from the years
of begging
and pleading
for someone to look…
just look and consider
the property’s value.
If one dares
to look closer,
beyond the brilliant white paint
and the royal blue awnings,
the other sides
of the building can be seen.
Three other sides …
a dingy beige
with peeling paint
and windows broken
by those who think nothing
of doing damage
to something that is not theirs.
The flat roof
can no longer withstand
the weight of
years of debris
or torrential rains
that only accumulate
and puddle
in its flatness.
The property is
overgrown with weeds
and littered by those things
that others have so carelessly
and thoughtlessly
thrown its way.
What are we to think
of an appealing façade
of fresh paint
and new awnings?
What are we to think
of neglect
and damage …
of brokenness
and litter …
of weeds
and debris
and puddles?
Perhaps this is exactly
what we will bring with us
tomorrow …
on this day we call
Ash Wednesday.
We bring with us
freshly painted facades
and new awnings,
hoping beyond hope
that those around us
will not see the
neglect and damage,
the brokenness and litter,
the weeds and shattered hearts.
The black soot
marks our façade
with a cross …
and the ash
falls onto our awnings.
The difficult admission
that there are
other sides to be seen
are whispered in prayer
and are heard by the One
who has clearly seen
all four sides
of each of us.
This is our tomorrow.
Holy God,
we come to you
in need of repair …
not in part,
but throughout
our whole being.
Create in us
a newness in our days,
a wholeness and healing through you,
a purpose in your kingdom,
hope in your love
and a pure heart before you.
Amen.
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