A path of light leads us forward, and we wend our way through the transfigured park down the street. I am coming up on my third Christmas in this town, and although I have wistfully passed the winter wonderland light display many times and thought, "I should go see that," I have always had an excuse not to: too cold, too far, too much for tonight.
But on this night, it is temperate, and my parents are visiting, and we have the time, so we go. Despite the bare ground, it feels surprisingly festive anyway. I have always seen the maze of multi-colored lights driving past, but now that I am inside the park, I notice the cheery cutouts of characters from beloved Christmas movies and ornament-bedecked Christmas trees that also populate the display.
We follow the winding path from scene to scene until we reach a small cul-de-sac, where a boisterous crew of children, none of them older than 10, chase one another in circles around the ring, giggling and squealing at their game. One of their adult chaperones apologizes to us, but we wave them off. They will be children only so long, after all, so why should they not enjoy the play we expect of them while they can?
Soon enough, we have the space to ourselves. In its center is a towering candle, around its perimeter a halo of glowing angels, which will later loom tall in my memory even though they are barely taller than my waist. If I saw them in someone's lawn, I'm sure I would find them tacky, but here, they feel strangely holy. There is a strange calm in the circle; it seems to invite a pause in the movement the rest of the display demands.
I notice, then, the white plaques set up next to each angel: "In loving memory." One name for each angel. There in the darkness, silent and solemn, they bear witness to the reality that this time of year is neither merry nor bright for those who grieve. Indeed, it is a holy space, a place to set apart to remember the departed.
Standing there, I remember with a feeling like a stab that I too will one day go down to death, preceded by some of my loved ones and succeeded by others. I think back to the advent calendars my brothers and I hung as children, with photos of our loved ones so we could pray for them as we unpinned each felt square in turn to count down the days. I have not seen those calendars in ages, but I know that if I were to hang it now, the faces of the dead would be looking back at me, for it is filled with people who loved me who are now gone.
I think of a line from the burial service out of The Book of Common Prayer: "In the midst of life, we are in death." Even here, in the glitz and glow of a holiday light show, death veils the radiance of celebration. Its presence has become more of a reality in my world than an intangibility; already the angels represent people I miss, and as the years go on more will join them in the circle.
Behind me, I hear a small girl telling her mother that the angels must be for the people who died––perceptive, I think. And I think also of the children chasing one another around the ring, and of the lights pressing against the night. We make angels of our pain and winter wonderlands out of the dead fields of winter. The lights of our celebrations are necessary because of the darkness, but only in the darkness are they made beautiful. In this memorial space, where glowing angels stand sentry to guard the memory of the dead, children play tag. I suppose that, in the midst of death, there is life, too.
Here's what I read, cooked, and created in the month of November.
What I Read
A Place to Hang the Moon, Kate Albus (★★★★★)
Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston (★★★★)
On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, Stephen King (★★★★)
The Dead Zone, Stephen King (★★★★)
The Girl Who Drank the Moon, Kelly Barnhill (★★★)
If you want to hear the rationale behind my rating, head to my Goodreads for full reviews.
What I Cooked
'Tis the season for apple desserts that can double as breakfasts, after all, so why not an apple cider doughnut muffin? Having no mini-muffin tin, I made these as full-sized muffins.
In all honesty, I am mixed in my feelings on these. On one hand, they did taste good (although they were a little dry after a day or two), but on the other hand, they were a bit on the finicky side (reduce the cider, brown the butter, dip the muffins, roll the muffins––enough steps to be a new TikTok dance). That being said, it is less finicky than making an actual apple cider doughnut, so it has that going for it. I don't know whether I need to make these a new fall tradition, but I did like them.
What I Created
...well...about that...
May your days be filled with beauty, and may your heart be filled with the willingness to see and give thanks for it.