I went to church for Thanksgiving.
Now, that might sound odd to those of you who are aware that I am more spiritual than religious, but I felt a really strong call to go to the Église Saint-Pierre yesterday evening and I listened to it, hurrying across the cobblestones as nights cape draped gently over my shoulders.
When I walked first through the ornately carved entry, so many centuries old, and then pushed open the padded leather doors in place to protect the silence, I wondered if there would be that rush of relief that I had felt upon my first visit. Or had I been digging into dreaming, willing it so.
Clock-wise I moved from altar to altar. They had been so ornately painted. And now the patina fell away like shards. Yet the beauty pulsed from within. In the far left corner, in the chapel for the church’s namesake, a woman sat praying in such stillness that she could have been sleeping. Sleeping peacefully with her God.
A communion.
After spending a few minutes marveling at the gilded nave rising, I turned and nearly ran into a priest with grizzled hair, who avoided my gaze, stepped aside to let me pass so that he could continue on his path towards the Confession box.
I paused under a statue of Mary Magdalene, barefoot and draped in the simplest of clothing, before heading towards the exit, full-circle. I knocked gently at my heart. Yes, I felt connected again. To family, my own and of the world. I don’t know what it is about this space that makes me feel so, but I acknowledged deeply my first springs of Gratitude for this Thanksgiving.
That was last night and admittedly, I had to push a bit to conjure up that feeling today upon waking, alone in my bed. Soon, I will get ready to go to my job – to return at midnight – and it is most likely that I will find out my schedule for December today and how many days I will be working through the holidays.
Everything is different. But there are other scales that exist besides “Better” or “Worse.” With today, and the festive days that lie ahead, I will have to figure out how to shift the traditions of the past so that they sing for me once more. Or anew. Perfection is nothing but a greedy shadow.
The love that I feel…can take many forms…from having bought a tiny string of Christmas lights after leaving the church…to the yoga that I am about to do for my body and spirit. All thank you’s, all a Thanksgiving.
Of course I am extending that Love to you as well. Thank
you for your many ideas and emails about the possible blog title change.
Please forgive me if I haven’t responded. We’ll see where things go.
Please be really kind to yourself today and – hopefully! – to those around you too.
Namaste,
Heather
Oooh, the door is so open! Thank you Brenda. 🙂
My first husband was a scientist. He once told me he would believe in God if someone could give him proof He existed. I came to be a woman of faith a few years ago. If I could go back in time, before he died, I would have told him, "That's why they call it faith." Whether one believes in God or not, I do believe we were created with a special part of us that is searching for that connection. You certainly have a beautiful door to open. I hope you always find comfort there. Brenda
Hello Heather! Happy Thanksgiving. Beautiful post, so lovely, beautiful images. It's funny, I too, have stepped into a church a few times in the past few years and found it surprisingly peaceful, as if a burden was being lifted from my shoulders. It meant a lot that my hubby was willing to go with me (I've only gone twice) since I consider myself spiritual but not traditional "believer." If you really want to expand your mind, try listening to country music! Argh. Kenny Chesney and Maggie Rose "Pull You Through" on a cold winter day is very warming! 🙂 File this in #thingsineverthoughtiddo Best Wishes & Blessings in the New Year to you!
It really does. Not all do for me, but this one is just so filled to the beams with it.
Sending Love to you and the Mrs.
It is crazy how I keep relearning to let go of chasing perfection. I don't know why that is one of my big lessons this go 'round, but it is.
I bet you are Maria! xo
I can't tell you how many times I have reread that last line, Joan. Yep, beats being a newt or no longer alive. How grateful I am that you are still with us all…
Love to you.
Yes, I am feeling so tender-hearted these days Bernadette. Sometimes I feel like a warrior, not so much right now. I am listening.
Grateful for our exchanges.