Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Ash Wednesday, 2009

Now comes the time we stop to rue
His suffering on the cross.
But this year we pray not to smile
Seeing Jesus in the boss;
And for the strength to sacrifice
What's not yet gone away;
And patience for Heaven's call
Should it not come today;
And for the symbols that recall
The sweet gift of the Son,
Remembering once He gave His life
And Citi traded one.
-Right Reverend C. James Wigginthroop

AUSTERITY, n.  The practice of the pilgrim or the protest of the picketer.

11 comments:

Nessa said...

Is this where we have a bailout party?

the amoeba said...

AUSTERITY, n. The practice of giving up the other party's earmarks.

weirsdo said...

For Dr. Weirsdo: Trading in for a second-hand Corvette.

actonbell said...

I like your poem:)

Fat Tuesday sped by so fast, I forgot to eat a fasnacht. Poor Mom's so sick, she won't have to give up anything this year (bright side of the dark side?)

It's going to be a long 40 days.

Jamie Dawn said...

Amen, Brother Doug.
Yeesh.
Cha.
They have no special word for Mom.
Bless thee and thy doggies.
Yeesh.
Cha.
Amen again.

Anonymous said...

5:59 pm ENJOY 6:42 am..........

tsduff said...

We tried our very best to ignore our favorite Dawg on a day when we were SO hungry... Ummmmm, nothing like those Chicago Dogs you introduced us into... hope you had access to a few after sunset. xoxo T & G

Jim said...

The first person I ever saw with ashes on her forehead surprised me. I thought she had a smudge that she didn't know about.
Good thing I was being austere in my countenance instead of wearing my usual smirky smile.
..

Doug said...

Nessa, maybe we'll meet in the AIG conference room?

Perfect, Amoeba.

Weirsdo, is there nothing that can be done? We landed a man on the moon, for crying out loud.

Bummer, Actonbell. I hope she gets well soon.

Tankee, tankee, JD.

Thanks for keeping track, Bear and Crow. The first day went ok, except I almost fell asleep in a psych ward. I'm not kidding about that.

Jim, I used to get the smudge of ashes every year, with the blessing "from ashes you were made. To ashes you shall return." Now I wear my ashes on my heart, instead.

cooper said...

austerity, evidently we haven't entered it yet or we haven't recognized it at least according to the last speech I heard.

You are a delicious poet by all accounts.

Doug said...

Thanks, Cooper. I wear creme fraiche while I blog.