As usual, the assemblage took on a life of it’s own. I wasn’t sure why I was placing things until I’d finished and realized the symbolism:
- Two incomplete circles of stones. Two life-lines cut short by cancer.
- Two candles. Two lights that burned in the darkness and warmed those around them.
- My Mom’s circle had more stones, closer to a life ‘full of years’. John’s was tragically short.
- At the beginning of Mom’s circle, seashells. For her these symbolized baptism, new beginnings, fresh life. She often used shells when she spoke on starting life with God. She would pass them out to participants as a meditation aid and a tangible reminder of a retreat.
- At the beginning of John’s circle, a black egg. For beginnings and for a Goose.
- In my Mom’s circle, a march of quirky figurines. The nail figures were sculptures that graced our library shelves growing up (I ‘appropriated’ them when I left for college). Mom loved little sculptures and she loved to worship YHWH.
- I didn’t really know John, so I didn’t want to presume about his life. I did put a little metal stone with “Believe” near the end of his circle.
- At the end of Mom’s life, a metal stone that reads “Sabbath”. She was trying to learn about rest and about simplicity in her last couple years of life.
- For both of them, the upward twist of driftwood: beauty emerging from the scouring and buffeting of life.
I watched the two flames for a long time.