Friday, November 1, 2013

All Hallows Eve

XII

Do not live for death,
pay it no fear or wonder
This is the firmest law
of the truest faith.  Death
is the dew that wets the grass
in the early morning dark.
It is God's entirely.  Withdraw
your fatal homage, and live.

Wendell Berry, 2011
from This Day: Collected and New Sabbath Poems


Last night, All Hallows Eve, we sat at home, with all the lights on.  We ate good food and drank good wine.  We lit candles in the windows and sang to bruise the darkness.  There were drums and a guitar and a banjo and a brand new birthday gift melodica [!].  And when there was a knock at the door, we opened it wide and handed out homemade cookies and caramel corn and glowing little lights. Sometimes I feel like my life is a series of these silly little gestures, small potshots at the enemy that don't seem to matter to anyone but me.  But I knew that when we decided that we really needed to be at home on the one night a year that I have never really been "at home," we had to do it our way, not with plastic pumpkins or fun-sized candy bars, but with joy and life and lots and lots of light. We needed to do it differently, we needed to try to do it better, even if the difference largely existed in our own heads, and even if "better" really is just a matter of opinion.  The neighbors will never know what a stretch it was for me, and they probably wouldn't get it even if I tried to explain.  But they do know that the pastor's family was home on Halloween, and for the moment, maybe that's victory enough.  

2 comments:

  1. Bravo, Bravo, Bravo. I love it. Doing it different and better, Love it. Singing to bruise the darkness, makes we want to cry. for the WHOLE earth is filled with his glory, all of it, every night of the year. THAT is what it is all about. well done.

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  2. Thanks for getting it. We wish you could have joined us.

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