“Stay positive.”

That expression is a running joke with a couple of friends of mine. Once while visiting them in New York my friend and I were engaged in a sort-of game of dozens, childishly insulting each other — all in fun, of course. Finally, his wife, a little more than annoyed at this adolescent nonsense, said, “Stay positive.” Whenever we start veering down that path, we’ll all say it practically in unison.

But sometimes, I have to be reminded of that for real.

Like today.

Ash Wednesday.

A co-worker asked me earlier today if I knew of any Ash Wednesday services in the area. Since I handle the religion page, I’m an obvious source for stuff like that. I gave him St. Joachim’s schedule and we commiserated for a spell about how silly it is that so many Catholics show up for church three times a year — Ash Wednesday, Christmas and Easter. Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Sometimes I can get so self-righteous, and God always finds a way to remind me to knock it off.

So there I was later this afternoon at the Ash Wednesday prayer service at St. Joachim’s and I got to thinking, oddly enough, about an Ash Wednesday many, many years ago in Chicago. I had stopped downtown to visit with a friend and we went to get our ashes at a church there after she was finished with work. We had dated a little, but broke it off and were friends.

What really stands out about that day in my memory, and I almost forgot it until just now, was that we had stopped by the office of my college art teacher (we had just graduated) so I could pick up some art work I had turned in for my final project. But the art teacher had tossed it all. I was beside myself. I had spent a long time on that work. The assignment for that semester was to emulate our favorite artist. Mine was Ivan Albright who dealt mostly in death and decay, something that affected him as an artist during World War I. I picked him because I knew my grandfather, who I had admired so much and was such a father figure to me was in poor health and would die soon. No one I knew close to me had died so I was trying to understand this at-the-time abstract concept.

It didn’t work. But I did produce some powerful images of death. I had a friend who worked at a funeral home at the time and he would let me sneak in late at night and I would draw the cadavers. Very powerful stuff. And very, very creepy. No doubt that’s why the teacher tossed the stuff.

I was near tears. So my friend and I went over to her apartment and she tried to cheer me up. And, well, one thing led to another and we were fooling around. A typically youthful, selfish thing to do since she had a boyfriend at the time. And on Ash Wednesday.

So I’m no saint. I sin as much as anyone else does.

After today’s service, I ran into Shaila Chapman of Costa Mesa. She wanted to know when the next Mass was. I said I thought it was at 5 p.m. but we checked with a volunteer just in case. Then something compelled me to ask her what she thought was so special about Ash Wednesday.

“It’s a beginning, a cleansing of the spirit, renewal, hope,” she said.

I’ve always thought it was a reminder that we came from dust, and that’s how we’ll go out so don’t get petty — keep an eye on the more important stuff. And don’t forget, it’s the soul that’s eternal.

She agreed.

I asked what she thought about Bishop Brown’s edict to not worry about “giving something up” for Lent, like candy or that extra glass of wine after dinner, but to “do something,” especially for the charities that are in such dire need these days. She loves the notion and pointed out that it was what she plans to do anyway as a longtime volunteer for Greenpeace.

Then she went on to talk about how Lent ought to remind us to reflect on all the good stuff we have in common, not our differences and that we should not be so quick to judge others.

“The world, especially now, needs a lot of positive people,” she said.

That’s a lesson that was instilled in her by her grandparents who survived the terrible bombing of France during World War II. They saw firsthand the importance of renewal and of maintaining a positive attitude in the face of the worst nightmares. As for the importance of diversity, well, she’s part French and part Brazillian and her husband’s English, so she’s an expert on the topic.

All I could think of as we said our goodbyes was what we’re told when we receive our ashes, “Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel.”

Sounds good to me. And I appreciate all the reminders I can get.

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