returning thanks on a day of remembering...

Today is my brother's birthday. He is in Northern California and heading to a little hippie town in Marin County for supper with his sweetheart and a film. It is also the 6th anniversary of my father's death. We marked both milestones by repairing our deck one last time until spring and finalizing the yard for the arrival of winter. In these parts, the cold can come without any warning even though predictions suggest later in November. Our neighbor was prepping his snow blower on Monday so... you be the judge.

Anniversaries, birthdays, remembrances, and the approach of All Hallow's Eve as well as All Saints/All Souls Day brings up something the late Henri Nouwen said and from my perspective and experience, he nails it:

The great secret of the spiritual life, the life of the Beloved Sons and Daughters of God, is that everything we live, be it gladness or sadness, joy or pain, health or illness, can all be part of the journey toward the full realization of our humanity. It is not hard to say to one another: “All that is good and beautiful leads us to the glory of the children of God.” But it is very hard to say: “But didn’t you know that we all have to suffer and thus enter into our glory?” Nonetheless, real care means the willingness to help each other in making our brokenness into a gateway to joy.

Some 20+ years ago my spiritual director said much the same thing to me: "Do you think the holy is only in the good, the light, the pure, and the fun? What about all of our pain? Or confusion? Suffering? Injustice? Is not the sacred  present there, too? Maybe in mystery or solidarity, but never just in the good." Confronting the limitations and problems of my adolescent and overly romantic theology was one of many illusions that needed to be exploded that year - and they were! It was disorienting and challenging, exhausting and anguishing, too, but vital and necessary if I was to grow in trust. And tenderness. And live more fully into an adult faith rather than that of a child. 

Part of the paradox of spiritual maturing is that as simplicity is shattered and literal truths replaced with nuance, shades of gray, and even a "cloud of unknowing," another faith is born within. This radical trust invites us to live into the kingdom of the holy in all seasons of life - including in our pain. Most of the time this hard won adult faith doesn't show up without a soulful struggle that searches for the sacred in all things. And without it, spiritual people tend to settle for a foolishly idealistic spirituality that confuses magical thinking for faith; or else a religion of shrunken horizons that squeezes complexities into either/or moral choices that tend toward the punitive. Like St. Joni Mitchell confessed: I've looked at life from both sides now, from win and lose, and still somehow it's life's illusions I recall: I really don't know life at all.

After six years, I am ready to grieve and honor my father's passing. I can hold him honestly in love even as I lament his brokenness.  For some unknown reason I am feeling deeply drawn this year to remembering the saints and sinners in my family who have passed into that great cloud of witnesses. Early next week I am going to construct a family altar with pictures of those who have passed into glory. We may have a feast on All Souls Day, too with foods from the various cultures that have shaped this wild and crazy family. One of the liturgical prayers for this day puts it like this: 

Gracious God, source of all life,
we pray to you for those we love, 
but see no longer. Grant them your peace,let light perpetual shine upon them,and in your loving wisdom and almighty power, work in them the good purpose of your perfect will; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.

After today's work, upon returning from the grocery store, I looked out at my neighbor's back yard and this is what I saw. If confirmed in my heart that now is the time for remembrance.