What does God do with dust and ash?

It's Lent again. I've been reading the Anglican Book of Common Prayer (1662) off and on for the past year or so. One thing difficult for me to quite come to terms with is the constant petitioning for mercy and forgiveness. It's not that I think I deserve God's kindness, but as far as I can tell, it's been extended. The whole contrite thing can sometimes feel like sniveling and hoping for grace which has already been given. But perhaps that's why I stick with it; I think I still have much to learn. Maybe I need to be reminded more often of how my life is good only in that God imbues it with goodness.

I liked this guy's meditation on Ash Wednesday:

What does God do with dust and ash?

He grows things out of them.

He covers them with purple raiments.

He lifts people out of them.

He unfairly accepts them in exchange for beauty.

He writes mysterious things in them.

He spits in them and uses the mud to give sight.

He washes them off your stinky feet.

He breathes into them and creates new life.

He descends into them, submits to their suffocation, and emerges alive and spotless.

When you return to dust, even if your body should be burnt to ashes and scattered over the four winds, he who is the Lord over the earth will be able to collect you, reconstitute you, and resurrect you into a body fit for eternity.

~Jared Wilson