Mystic? You say, What's that and what for? Cause. The mystical parts of life, that invisible faith that keeps on working, the homeless that have hope, the belief that prayers lifted up actually reach someone and make a difference. And Monday because they both start with the letter M and it sounds cooler that way. Then I thought of blogging on that touch on Friday's or something because Mondays are so busy who wants to slow down and think about souls and prayer and God and stuff? I figure it may be the very reason we need it the most. The reason that I need it most on a Monday. And, if I had posted this at 7 am there might be slight hope that i would get something else done but my list of fifty thousand plus two things is down to maybe one and half.
This weekend Husband and I went to The Day of the Dead festival in Nashville. It's a celebration TO ME that honors the people who have gone on before us and keeping their memories alive. It also was All Saints day, a recognition of the Saints and a reminder to consider their lives as we walk out the days of our own. Then the following day was All Souls Day. Which is when you pray for EVERYBODY and I think that's probably a pretty good business to stay in everyday. As a guy in Spain once told us when we were there - "It's a party for ALL THE PEOPLES."
Yesterday we went walking on the land and we found a few things. A deer skull for one, and then a balloon that had landed. A small one, the kind that you would have a child's b'day party. It was trailing streamers from the other balloons that were part of memorial service for a child. Did the handwritten notes bring me to tears. Oh, you betcha. All souls, indeed. I thought about those precious notes that had been set free according to the tags on October 18 in St. Louis, Missouri. And they made it all the way to us. Happen to drop in the woods where we were walking, when we were walking before they were destroyed by weather and time. In the middle of hundreds of acres and undeveloped land in Tennessee. This means something to me. It falls under that thing I consider mystical. When I read that mother's note, well, my heart - I can still fill the place that is now hers. The way that touched the grief that she set free. I won't ever throw that particular card away. Not while I'm alive anyway. And, I won't forget that Mother. Her baby's name was Tommy and I don't guess I'll forget that either. But there remains something special about the fact that we caught his balloons.
And this morning I was thinking of Carson McCullers which at first glance would not seem to fit into any of those days or stories. But then, I'm a southern gothic writer and it fits. Trust me, it all fits.
If you've ever read The Ballad of the Sad Cafe then you know about that strange, strange love triangle and those strange people and what happened first and what happened in the end. It's a story about unrequited love, how we are broken people and then we love someone and we are made whole again, we are somehow transformed into this loving creature we didn't know we were. And, if we lose that love there is a part of us gone. We have given something that may be gone from our lives but it cannot be taken away from our hearts. Nor, from our minds and memories.
The Day of the Dead, All Saints, All Souls. All Us. Here and now, reaching for love.
And there is this Creator, this God, (for the record, I'm a Trinity girl) reaching for us. Always. A part of us created in that image of love. Capable of amazing things. Of loving and remembering.
Maybe, some days we're reaching back like the days we reach back to remember those we loved, and are loving still.
Or, maybe we are like the characters of the Sad Cafe. Turning our backs on that Divine love, choosing another, a thing, a diversion. I'm thinking that Monday is a great day to pause, to think Soul and belonging and being part of a Divine mystery that's unfolding as we are standing in the midst of time, holding on with all we've got to each other.