Ashes to Ashes

The ground was littered with beads, cups and other assorted colorful debris from the night before. The good times had rolled. Now it all had to be cleaned up.

It was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. The party was officially over.

Bourbon Street had been rocking the night before. The city had made an amazing comeback since the dark days after Katrina.  Last night’s parade was a high point. Tourists toured. Partiers partied.  And now the cleaners cleaned.

A gray cloud cover dulled the surrounding city’s colors at sunrise, making the day as gloomy as the meaning behind it. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

“Well,” the street sweeper thought, “Someone has to clean up the ashes and the dust.”  Janitor humor. It made him laugh every single time.

A moaning man rolled in an alley in the same spot where he had passed out the night before.  The street sweeper had given up alcohol many Lents ago.  And seeing the poor hungover man sleeping in the pool of his own vomit was #4 on the list of  his 100 reasons why not to drink.  The street sweeper had dreams.  Alcohol, drugs and whatever vice he would normally give up  for Lent were all just roadblocks. He knew great things were going to happen in his life. No sense of having any personal demons stepping in the way.

Oh, he had plenty of reasons to drink. Katrina would be a humongous one.  The post-tramatic syndrome he suffered would be another.  Losing his house near Lakeview to a wall of water would also qualify. Then there was being laid-off from his white-collar job — THAT was worth a cold one. His wife and kids leaving him after a nasty divorce would drive most men to a bottle. A lot of bottles. Yup. He had met the Devil, stared him in the eye and pondered the reasons why he should remain living. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

But he had chosen to keep living. Why? He was a man of faith. Faith in the man upstairs. Faith that life doesn’t always deal bad cards.  He swept more beads into another pile (something he had been doing since midnight).  Work gave him purpose. Dreams gave him hope. He dreamed of a better life. Of meeting a soulmate.  He knew that the Lord saw his suffering. God was a loving God. He knew his moment would happen soon.

And then he saw it.  The gold ring gleamed in the filtered sunlight.  He looked around and quickly crossed the street to pick it up.

It was a woman’s ring. Thin, but wide enough to have a single cross on it.  It almost felt warm to the touch. Whoever lost such an elegant piece of jewelry must be sick about it.  He inspected it one more time and slipped it into his pocket.  He’d check with the police (like they cared) to see if anyone had mentioned losing it.  If not, he’d have an expensive souvenir from his night of cleaning up after Mardi Gras.

He pulled out the ring again and looked at the cross on it. Ashes to ashes.  Dust to dust.

A delicate finger tapped him lightly on the shoulder.  “Excuse me sir, I think you have my ring.”

The street sweeper turned to see the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Tall, dark hair and black eyes. He could tell by the wrinkles around her eyes that she was about his age.  She looked like an angel. She had to be an angel.

“Um, er.” he stammered.

“Inside of it, you’ll see “Ask and ye shall receive,” inscribed inside of it.

Sure enough, the inscription was inside it.

The street cleaner handed the ring over to the woman.

“Thanks. It’s all I have from before Katrina.  I was sick this morning when I saw that it had slipped off my finger.”

The street sweeper, noticing that his shift was about over, said, “Do I get a reward? How about you buy me breakfast.”

The lady, looked at the sweeper and paused.  Who was this man? Why had she been led back here?  He had a gentleness in his eyes.  A kindness to his spirit. She wasn’t sure why, but she trusted the man.  “Sure,” she said.  “There’s a great cafe a couple of blocks down that my family owns. ”

The sweeper whistled to his coworker and handed over his broom. He took off his hat and tucked it under his arm.  “Tell the boss, I’ll see him tomorrow.”

And with that the street sweeper walked down the street with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

It would be forty-six days until Easter, but he had risen from the dead. At that moment he put all the pain of the past six years behind him and walked boldly into a new future.

He and the lady continued to date. Eventually he quit his street sweeper job and began working in the restaurant. In an year, he began managing a second location.  He and the lady were married in the Cathedral.  And when it came time to exchange rings, she gave him the most precious ring of all: The one he had found.  “Wear this ring on your pinkie finger and always know this — When you found this ring, you found my heart.”

He smiled, kissed his new bride and lived in happiness until the very end of his life. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.