Gathering of Spirits

 It's November, the month in which I've sometimes endeavored to blog daily. Reading a blog is something I rarely do anymore, so writing one seems a bit hypocritical. And yet... I've mostly given up writing since last February when I took a job. Three weeks after staring that job, it changed completely due to covid 19, and yet I did not write, except for brief notes once in a while in my journal. So it's fine if this discipline ends up being only for me. I need it, even if no one reads it. 

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November 1, All Saints Day, becomes more poignant each year as those friends and family who are gone become more numerous. Last week three funerals were on my radar. In two of those memorials we were able to hear recordings of the voices of those who were gone, singing and reciting poetry. It was a visceral reminder of what we will be missing, beautiful and aching at the same time.

One tradition some cultures have for All Saints Day is to make an altar with photos of loved ones who have died and to light candles. When I thought of making an altar, I realized it was pointless. The whole house is an altar of sorts, filled with artifacts and memories in honor of those who have formed us. 

One of the photo corners in the livingroom

The flowers in my flower beds are mostly started by my mother, carried here in the trunk of her car, and dug into the ground together, shoulder to shoulder. 

We remember our fathers with the trees we've planted in their honor. 

This is the first year of an abundant bloom of this particular shade of mum my mother loved. 

As I contemplated how to write about All Saints Day, this song by Carrie Newcomer came up on my Spotify playlist. The title is "A Gathering of Spirits" and the chorus goes like this:

Let it go my love my truest,
Let it sail on silver wings
Life's a twinkling that's for certain,
But it's such a fine thing
There's a gathering of spirits
There's a festival of friends
And we'll take up where we left off
When we all meet again.

As I write, John Prine's voice launches into his song, Souveniers, which also seems apt for such a day as this.

Remembering loved ones includes thinking about what was important to them, and evaluating my own values alongside theirs. What have I carried on, and what have I let go?  

This afternoon I read the October 16 issue of Anabaptist World, which commemorates 100 years of Mennonite Central Committee. This organization was important to many of the family members who are now gone. It was begun for the purpose of relieving suffering, and has grown to be a world wide organization. To remember MCC is to remember what was important to those family members who went before me. While it began as relief, it has grown. Relief is still a focus, but equally important is justice in the work of MCC.

Hebrews 12 speaks of being surrounded by a great cloud of witnessess. The imagery of being cheered on by so many is beautiful and inpiring. It is also comforting. 

Layla Saad, a writer who has written one of the best sellers on anti-racism, Me and White Supremacy, frequently speaks of the desire that she may honor the ancestors who have shaped her, and the hope that she also might be a good ancestor. 

May my life honor the best in those witnesses who had an impact on me. May it also make the world a better place for those who live after me.

Happy All Saints Day