Out of our Ashes

Photo by Rubén Bagüés on Unsplash

Ashes - noun: 1) the remains of something destroyed; ruins. 2) the residue left after the burning of a substance.

As a child, I didn't like ashes. I cringed at the flicks of cigarette ash and those from burning paper and charcoal. I considered those in ashtrays equally as offensive as those in grills, and don't get me started on the ones that commenced Lent. For me, ash became a metaphor for dirt, decay, and death.

Down in the ashes
Sometimes, life's circumstances have a way of knocking us down, and we may not know how or if we will ever get up. One day, we may be on the mountaintop, and the next, we may be in the valley. To see what we thought we knew about ourselves go up in flames or burn down in embers can leave us stunned, devastated, and immobilized.

Over the course of our lives, all of us experience periods of immense stress because of loss. These may include:

• Abuse
• Betrayal
• Bullying/Harassment
• Death
• Divorce/Break-up
• Illness
• Incarceration
• Infidelity
• Molestation/Rape
• Unemployment

I am no exception. In fact, I can check off more items on the list than I want to admit, and I can add a few others. Wife. Mother. Servant. Director. Daughter. Sister. Friend. None of these titles made me immune to trials. Four years ago, I had a defining "ashes" experience; I had come to a place of frustration and disappointment. Having lost my unborn child and a dear friend/colleague within a five-week period left me feeling barren and numb - functioning in a grief-stricken haze.

Have you ever felt like you didn't recognize yourself?

What we are going through internally has a way of manifesting outwardly. Many of us subconsciously wear our pain. It may be in the form of weight loss or gain, fidgeting or twitching, mood swings or outbursts, breakout, insomnia, etc. For me, my appearance became dull and ashen- mirroring my emotions. As much as I like to talk, I didn't care to share my feelings with those whom I was closest. What I knew: I was not 100%, and I was going to fight my way back.

Out of my ashes

For months, I smiled, prayed, and went about business as usual. One day a grief counselor came to my former job to meet with the staff, and she provided the opportunity for one-on-one sessions. I was grateful for the time. She said several things to me during our session but the one that resonated most was: "Be kind to yourself." It's such a simple phrase, but it encompassed so much. For me, it meant: it's OK to hurt. It's OK to admit you are in pain. It's OK to acknowledge that you may not be good, but you are working to get there. Maybe it was at that point or a little after that I truly felt free to rise out of my ashes. Acknowledging there were even ashes was my catharsis.

Picture from cmalliance.org

Beauty for our ashes

My youthful revulsion for ash has disappeared, and I can appreciate the almost glistening silver specs in the blackish debris. Now, I find it strangely beautiful. In mythology, there's a bird called The Phoenix.  Across cultures, its story has a commonality: The Phoenix dies only to live again. It smolders in its flames to be reborn from its own ashes.

Out of my ashes, my son was born, new relationships formed, and old ones were restored. God has also created beautiful things in me: empathy, fortitude, humility, resilience, tolerance, and understanding to name a few, and out of YOUR ashes, God wants to create and birth something beautiful too. I encourage you to hold on to all hope. If you are in your ashes, you don't have to dwell there. Know that love, joy, peace, and rebirth await you.

"To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for his own glory. They will rebuild the ancient ruins, repairing cities destroyed long ago. They will revive them, though they have been deserted for many generations." Isaiah 61:3-4

Please comment or share about what beauty has risen from your ashes.

(c)2017 by Antoinette V. Barber