On the antique dresser that I so laboriously refinished last summer, breaking a toe in the process, is an assortment of framed photographs. These photos with a large ball candle inherited from my grandma, four clear glass swans passed on to me from my mother and a strand of prayer beads constitute my ancestor altar. There are pictures of those who have passed, grandparents, great grandparents, aunts, uncles, including my brother and son.
Each evening before I go to bed, I light the candle while I try to meditate and pray.
The Buddhists and others around the world have such altars. As I have tried to reach out spiritually to my son and my brother, I have also begun to remember others in my family more frequently. In a crisis that occurred in my household recently, I found myself calling out in desperation to my ancestors for help. When all turned out well, I thanked them. Now, I have a more formal place to remember them. I do feel supported when I think of those who have lived before me, and whose lives so directly connect to mine.
… In the beginning of the year and when it ends,
we remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength,
we remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart,
we remember them.
When we have joys we yearn to share,
we remember them.
So long as we live, they too shall live,
for they are now a part of us, as
we remember them.
From a Jewish prayer, in Life Prayers From Around the World; 365 Prayers, Blessings, and Affirmations to Celebrate the Human Journey, Elizabeth Roberts & Elias Amidon
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