Looking into the cloud

Growing up in the United States, November always feels like a big surprise. The attention around All Hallow’s Eve, known more broadly as Halloween, seems to divert from the very next day. As the lesser-known holiday, November 1st, All Saints Day, often slips quietly by. This year I was struck with the idea of an exercise to celebrate the day. I spent 30 minutes writing down the names of as many personal to me and unknown to you saints as I could recall. Those whose faith and love at some point carried my burden or shared their wisdom and joy with me. This exercise was my way of recognizing some of the saints by looking into the cloud of witnesses from which I have been shaped.

While the procession of saints is great in number, I will only detail a few in this incomplete canon.

Saint Adele aka Miss Teeny. Adele spent many days and evenings at my house while I was growing up. Her faithful work around the house was accompanied by a quiet look and a few words that let us know when we were in the right or in the wrong. When my parents traveled out of town we were excited that it was Adele who was entrusted to care for us. We had pancakes for dinner after all. I remember the birthday presents she gave me. The simplest gift wrapped in sparkled confetti white tissue contained Spire comic books. It’s hard to describe what she did when the bigger memory is the feeling of being loved.

Saint Ellen of Norfolk. Ellen was an older saint whose love opened her doors to many women. One day I called her in panic and despair asking for advice. I am sure I was at my wit’s end, feeling disgusted at my lack of love at the moment for 6 very young children. I hung up from the call knowing that our conversation had not resolved my despair. A few minutes later a surprising knock at the door revealed Ellen standing in my doorway. When I asked why she came when I hadn’t asked her to, I recall hearing, “Your voice told me I needed to come over and see how you are doing.” I couldn’t believe she had stopped whatever she was doing to come over and spend a few minutes with me. What a heavenly act!

Saints Carol, Bob, Ed, Barbara Ann, and Jim. Men and women who didn’t just bring the Word but lived the words of Christ to me. Religious orders, priests, navy chaplains, and everyday people whose influence attracted me to Christ and his words.

Saints Charlotte and Maxine. These mother saints have their own special place. But the act I highlight is when they each came to be present with me for stretches of weeks during my cancer journey in 1997 -1998. While the time seems so long ago, the memory of their ministry to me in my sickness is a present witness to the hands and feet of Jesus in my distress. Like we do with saints we admire I named daughters after them. You have to figure out who is named for Maxine as my mom claimed she would disown me if I named any child after her. Not all saints will honor their gifts and contributions.

I share my incomplete canon, to spur you to consider yours. Of course, this accounting doesn’t take into consideration the literary saints whose works I have read and will never meet, as well as a host of unknowns for whom I own a debt.

As we enter the month of November recall your own canon of saintly witnesses. In a month often known for little sun or warmth, it is a sure source of comfort and light to pause to look into the cloud.