But as they tie me up and burden me, these impositions also set me free. They move in, demand my time and smudge up the clean order of my life. “The impositions in my life are often the best things that happen to me.”–my spouse, my children, my work, Jesus. If that isn’t an imposition on my self-focus and self-serving self, I don’t what is.Īnother thought also comes. He burdens me with a new paradigm, a counter-cultural way to live. Jesus asks me to love my enemy, do good to those who spitefully use me, forgive 70×7 times, give to the poor, feed his sheep and on and on…. But as the word has nibbled on and noodled at me for the past couple of weeks, this thought comes uninvited, “Jesus is sure a capital “I” Imposition on my life.” Ouch! As I think about it, it is true. Mooch or pest are more likely the words I use when I ask for a cup of sugar. Other than for Ash Wednesday, the word imposition is not part of my speaking lexicon. A cup of sugar is just a piece of cake for her. Lipinski (the formality between our mothers was never breached) is clearly familiar with impositions–burdens and obligations of all kinds. Prouse, she says, it’s no imposition at all.” With five kids, Mrs. Lipinski, but may I borrow a cup of sugar?” “Come in, Mrs. The door opens and my mother says: “I hate to impose, Mrs. My mother knocks on the door of the little white bungalow and the sounds of eight to a dozen feet thunder to answer it–one pair belong to my best friend, Marian.

I have childhood memories–real or imagined–of my first hearing of the word imposition: My mother and my three-year old self toddle across our yard and driveway to the next door neighbor’s house. defines imposition as: the laying on of something as a burden or obligation.

Ever since Ash Wednesday I’ve been thinking about the word we use for having ashes smudged on our foreheads: the Imposition of Ashes.

How to moisten ashes for imposition