Last night, we lit the candles in the jack-o-lantern again.
One of the advantages of carving the pumpkin late and keeping it inside mostly is that we can enjoy it for a few more nights. When I think back on this Halloween week-end, I'll likely remember the happiness that carving this pumpkin gave me, the first time we've had alit jack-o-lantern on our porch, well, ever.
Although the roasted seeds we created were yummy, I did not enjoy the experience enough to take more pumpkins from our church's pumpkin patch. If you are in the South Florida area and want some free pumpkins, come on over to the corner of 72nd and Pines, just across from the South campus of Broward College in Pembroke Pines.
Yesterday our church celebrated the feast of All Saints. It was a sadder All Saints for me than usual. I put a picture of my best friend from high school on the All Saints table and wrote her name in the Book of the Dead. I feel much too young to know people my own age who have died in the past year.
But I liked having a place where others were quietly weeping around me. I liked lighting our beeswax candles.
I cling to the assurance that even though our lives are brief candles, death does not have the final answer.
It feels positively countercultural to be part of a group that honors the elderly and the dead, that tells us that we will not be forgotten.
I spent the afternoon doing life affirming activities: picking a friend up from the airport, making a pot of turkey and dumplings (best ever--was it the smoked/grilled turkey that was the key? the double turkey stock?), sending e-mails to my online students in the hopes of keeping them on track, updating the publications on my CV, applied for a Thrivent Action Group microgrant (for lack of a better word) for our next quilting Sunday at church on Nov. 22, and all the things that must be done in getting ready for the week ahead.