Ah, November, Lord…
The gateway, in these parts, to shorter
days and colder nights; to “the holidays” and all
that they entail; to this year’s end and all the wonder, worry and mystery
of what the new year holds in store…
But as in all things living, with the season there
comes dying: this inevitable annual ending, sapping the strength of what was bright and beautiful, wonderful and warm…
Comes the harvest, then: a time for raking, burning, plowing under, waiting for the winter… then
waiting through the winter… then
waiting for the waiting itself to finally end…
I don’t like the end of
things, Lord: the dying, the loss, the giving up, the letting go… I don’t like the end of things…
My soul mourns the loss of
summer’s warmth and grieves in seeing autumn, in all her beauty, sadly pass away…
I shiver in the chill
November brings… And December’s pledge of colder days clouds my hope of
spring…
Ah, November, Lord…
What other month might
better bear the prayers we offer up for those who’ve gone before us: precious
leaves, fallen from our family trees…
All those holy souls: lost from this world, found and claimed by you, harvested for life that never ends…
Ah, November, Lord… the month to
pause and face our loss of those we prayed might never go – but did… the month to stop
and face the truth: dying’s part of living… But after death there comes a time when we will know your reign of peace and find again the love of those we’ve lost, the ones who’ve gone before us…
Ah, November, Lord… the month of souls
whose loss has touched our hearts in ways we cannot bring to speech – but bring to
prayer – for you to touch with healing, with hope that sees beyond
the summer’s end, beyond the fall, beyond the winter’s wait for spring and life that has no end…
We lift to you the lives and souls, our love and all our memories, of those who’ve gone before us… In the
quiet of our prayer, Lord, we lift them
up by name…
We lift them up in
prayer, Lord: welcome them in mercy to the place that you prepared for them, long
before all time began… Hold them in your arms, Lord – hold them in your everlasting arms…
And shape our lives according to your word, that one day we might join them when your mercy brings us home to live with you in peace and in joy that has no end…
Amen.
Tonight’s musical offering is a little different: composer Liam Lawton reads a remarkably beautiful prayer against the background of simple music…
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died
cried
space in my heart
Lazarus your friend
breaking
might see
and
beneath
them
leave
Paradise
gentle
glimmer
and deeper
the kindly faces
friends and neighbors
greet them
land of eternal summer
Lord
beautiful eyes
leave them
sweet embrace
hands
moments
Heaven
gentle soul
us home
