Thursday's Reflection: The Family Home

Monday is closing day for my Dad's house. Once we cleaned it out and had it neutralized --wallpaper stripped and replaced with beige walls--selling it didn't take long. Dad has been living in his spacious apartment in a new senior living facility and is so happy there. No regrets. No yearning for the house he and Mom bought in 1965 after years of moving every two years or so. 

I returned to the house the other night to sell the last few items I had listed on Craigslist. One was a large wool rug from the living room--a rug in perfect condition because the living room was rarely used.  Holidays mainly. A parlor. My brother told a story recently about how when he was a young adult and his friends came over, one would call out tauntingly, "Mrs Jensen, I'm going in the living room." 

The woman who bought it wasn't sure about the dominant pink color, but she decided it was such a gorgeous rug and the price a true bargain that it would be worth painting a room to coordinate with the rug. My mother loved pink, and I was delighted her taste would be appreciated. Later two women came to buy a set of wrought iron furniture that had been on the three-season porch. They were thrilled with it and repeatedly commented about the beauty of this furniture. How pleased Mom would be! 

Then the house was empty. 

I had wondered how it would feel to walk through the house for the last time, especially with the last piece of Mom leaving the house. We moved to the house the spring I was a junior in high school, so I didn't live there full-time for very long, but that is the house I returned to each college break and where I spent the night before my wedding. Eventually my husband and I moved to Ohio, but this is the house where we had our son's confirmation party and where our daughter and son-in-love opened their wedding presents. For all the grandchildren this was Grandma and Papa's house. We gathered to celebrate Christmas Day there, and we have the annual pictures of the grandkids sitting in front of the Christmas tree to prove it. 

This is the house where we sat with my mother as she was dying. We all gathered around her bed and said our good-byes. This is the house where she said her last words, "I am so blessed." This is the house where she died, and where my father continued to live 11 years on his own. 

 Our daughter-in-love's family home was recently sold, and I asked her how she was feeling. She said something so wise. "Thank goodness memories are not sold with houses." 

This house has served us well, but it is no longer our house.  A young family with two young children is moving into our family home, bringing new life into this house. They will make it their own. 

As I walked through the house one last time, I said good bye once again to my mother, and I said good bye to this part of my own life, the life that was lived here, but I will always have my memories. 

An Invitation
Have you had to say good-bye to a family home? What was that like for you? In what ways is that home still a part of you? I would love to know. 

Remembering All The Saints

All Saint's Day is the church's Memorial Day, a day to remember all those who have died in the faith of Christ, as one of my favorite hymns says,
             For all the saints who from their labors rest,
             All who by faith before the world confessed,
             Your name, O Jesus, be forever blest.
             Alleluia! Alleluia! 

Regardless of your faith tradition, however, this is a good day to honor the faithfulness of the saints, all those who have been transformed through death into new life. And to give thanks for God's faithfulness to the saints; God's love, mercy, forgiveness. 

My Understanding of Sainthood
I must admit I have always held in some disdain how a deceased parent or spouse becomes a saint in the eyes of loved ones. All faults and foibles are conveniently forgotten. Well, after my mother died, I finally understood. We don't make them into saints. We don't need to reframe how they behaved, what they did while alive, in order to induct them into sainthood. We don't need to enlist them in the process of canonization, proving the miracles they did on earth. We have nothing to do with it, for they have attained sainthood through death, in death. Mom is now a saint. I feel such joy in that awareness. Not only are you now perfect, Mom, but I, too, will be perfect some day. I, too, will be a saint. We will be saints together. We will know each other in our perfection. 

For the time being, however, I am here and quite alive. All Saints Eve and All Saints Day give me the opportunity to connect to that which is larger than myself, bigger than the death of my beloved mother and others whom I have loved and now miss. In a way, All Saints Day prepares me for my own death.

The Purpose of Ritual
This calls for a ritual, however simple it may be. Barbara Bizou quotes Angeles Arrien in her book The Joy of Ritual, Spiritual Rituals to Celebrate Milestones, Ease Transitions, and Make Every Day Sacred, "Ritual is recognizing a life change and doing something to honor and support the change." p. 10. 

"Rituals keep us centered in the present, and at the same time allow us to deal with the past and envision our futures in a very healthy, directed way." (Bizou, p. 17)

My Ritual for My Mother
Therefore on the first All Saints Day following my mother's death, I placed the candle hospice had given us on my altar space in my office, along with pictures of Mom representing various times of her life.  Mom as a little girl, a toddler, with her grandmother. Mom in her 20's, in her beauty, sitting on a porch stoop; legs primly crossed at her ankles, hands folded in her lap. A formal portrait of me, about a year old, with her. I look adoringly at her. Mom and my grandma and me on a summer day on the farm. Mom is about 31. Mom and I on my daughter Kate's wedding day. She wears floral silk and her hair is perfectly coifed as always. Mom and Dad standing on the porch at Sweetwater Farm, our Ohio home, on a crisp, smell the apples, fall day. Two Christmas pictures: one of the three of us siblings with Mom and Dad. Dad is holding her hand. One of Kate and I with her, and she is holding her first great grandchild, Maren, only weeks old. We knew that would be Mom's last Christmas, but she radiated holiday joy, wearing red blazer and holly decorated Christmas shoes. Oh how she loved shoes. 

Rituals take place outside ordinary life and within sacred space, which I created by gathering those beloved pictures and by sitting in silence, remembering our connection and cherishing my union with her.  I created an intentional time to honor not only my mother, but my own feelings as well. And to move ahead in my own life. I offered these words:
            I bless you. I release you. I carry you always 
            and forever in all that is dearest to me. Amen."
                       Meditations for the Passages and 
                       Celebrations of Life, A Book of Vigils
                       Noela N. Evans, p. 17.


Your Chance to Create Ritual
What about you? Who are the Saints you need to remember? Who are the Saints you carry with you? How can you honor them and honor your connection to them? 
Here are some simple ways to consider:
Light a candle and sit in silence as if your Saint was with you.
Ring a bell and say your Saint's name out loud three times. Close by ringing the bell again.
Recall a special memory and share that with someone who misses that Saint as well. 
Give a gift to a charity that meant something special to your Saint.
Plant a tree. 
Spend time in walking meditation or walk a labyrinth.

In some way mark this time. Know that your Saint will be with you as do this. 

An Invitation
I invite you to share your experience of All Saints Day. What is your experience of ritual on this day or any day?