November Aire

The sounds of November are exquisite.  There is a soft symphony playing with each crackle of the fireplace, with each intake of air drafting through the doors whistling and humming as the smoke travels up the chimney.  But these are not the only sounds that gently lull me into a safe, heavy sense of autumn hibernation.  There is the rustle of leaves: maple, oak, elms, hackberries, even corn husks that have trespassed into the yard to find winter solitude under the bridal-veil bushes.  Such simple music, more ancient than any famous composer has ever written.  It is magic to me.  It is a perfect lullaby. 

The light of November is transitional.  No longer is it as direct and strong.  It lacks the once powerful rays that stung us in July.  The light of November some might say is grey and blah, but it deserves a more introspective look.  This is light that grows short and it stays briefer every day. Now, the sun tucks itself back in under the horizon earlier and earlier so that darkness seems to have conquered the earth.  But little do we think about the necessary nature of this transition, for it is the change of light that brings the season, the leaves, the coolness, the thoughts and anticipation of light returning to the world.

The scent of November is comforting.  It is this season when the earth is once again opened up for a brief time before the winter snow blankets the rich fertile ground.  Now is the time we see fields once heavy with the fruits of the season now harvested and ready for a much needed rest.  However, the hearty scent of rich ground sneaks into our homes and underlines the wafting scent of wood smoke and warm aroma of harvest baked goods.  The scents of pumpkin, cinnamon, apple each introduce themselves to say hello and be greeted by an insatiable appetite.  A whiff of the air makes you feel safe and secure; no worries about will there be enough, for as matter of fact there is enough to share three times over. 

November, it is a simple as anything else for it is in this season when we can stop and say thank you for the warmth, the love, the provisions of life, the place to call home.  It is the beginning of a natural slow down of days, although we too often rush about concerned about less important activities.  November, there is something deserving of our appreciation if we just take a minute to see it.

peace

Ancient Guide

I was not able to take in the magnitude of what stood before me.  After a long journey across the English Channel from Calais to Dover, I was overloaded as I viewed the pastoral countryside; thrilled and excited to finally be in England.  So, when suddenly before me stood Canterbury Cathedral, I simply followed the line of tourist not giving much thought to my location. 

Step, step, step, I walked up to the ancient structure from the south west transept. 

Step, step, step, I walked over the spot where so many people before me stood in awe as their thoughts transcended the divine. 

Step, step, step, I walked through the wrought iron gates and entered the sacred. 

It was at this point it dawned on me that I was where I needed to be at that moment in time. 

Strange thought, isn’t it?  To be far away from home, in a foreign land, and find I was right where I needed to be. 

The air was cool and dim, perfect transition on a warm summer day.  The nave was quiet and peaceful, scattered with a few other pilgrims, and some of the church members (yes, real church members doing work in this ancient place.)  There was some music playing as the church prepared for a special worship service honoring the Queen’s Birthday.  I could not completely enter the nave since it was being prepared; instead, I was drawn down to the crypt beneath the church where another sacred space awaited. 

I headed for the stairs with respect and veneration as I gingerly crossed over the tombs in the floor of those long passed.  Eventually I came to the stairs descending into the cavernous vault.  There were very few electrical lights; instead, the vault was lit by candles.  Dozens and dozens of flames aglow provided warmth and light in the damp, cool room.  Awe swept over me.  Reverence grasped my thoughts and my spirit.  The long journey I had been on came to this point.  I did not understanding that I was supposed to be here in this place but now I knew it.

Safe and secure I felt the passing of ages in this room, as millions of faithful Christians have entered and lifted up their prayers to the Almighty.  Moved by an unseen force, I walked towards the wrought iron candle holder in the center.  Here I took a previous burnt match stick and stuck it into the flame of a candle.  I let it burn for a moment watching as the flame grew and took hold.  This flame in my hand, who knows how long it had been burning, was now being transferred to another candle and with it another prayer to God. 

I needed to do this it is why I was here in this holy place, to light this one candle. 

Perhaps this is a strange story to some; however, there set apart from the distractive world I was in tune with what I believe was the Spirit of God calling me.  It was a call to stop and pray; to think about God; to give thanks and worship; to praise the Almighty for all those I love in my life.  You too are being called by God.  The Spirit works in all of us even when we are overwhelmed with life.  Be one who allows God’s Holy Spirit to guide you, and sometimes you will be surprised where the Spirit leads.

PAX