Grave Faces VIII

I came across this pajama party angel a few weeks ago.

She looks just like a teenage girl at a sleep over.

Her mouth is open and she's telling me something.

Something personal, because she knows me so well.

And it's just as scary now as it was in 1967 -

for different reasons.

This woman is not interested in telling me anything.

She's on a mission.

Her head is tilted down with determination

and her eyes are set on her goal.

Although I'm sure  the message is about heaven,

I must say that I've seen that look

on the faces of teachers who are desperately

trying to find time to get to the washroom

during recess.

I get the feeling that

she knows that I am here

and at any moment

her eyes will snap open.

I don't linger.

If this angel is aware of me, 

she doesn't let on.

Her wings are big and heavy looking

and she is very slight

so perhaps she is simply tired.

I suppose angels have to grow into their wings and

adolescence is a struggle in heaven too.

This little fellow really made me laugh.

His name is Hope,


 but neither his face nor his position

suggest anything hopeful.

But he is patient.

If he has to

he can wait an eternity


 for someone to come along and free him.

But he won't have to wait - 

because the message of Spring is

rebirth and hope.

Happy mid April, everyone!

Grave Faces VII

I'm always shocked by the number of slovenly child angels.

Doesn't anyone check them on the way out the door in the morning?



This one has pulled on a robe about four sizes too big.

Not that he is concerned.

Like most small boys he's more interested in what he is doing than in how he looks.


And by the way, he is writing something.


But whatever he had to tell us is long gone, the granite slate brushed clean

by decades of wind, snow and ice.

I mentioned in my last Grave Faces post that faeries are far less common than angels

in graveyards.

They do, however, dress more modestly.


Faeries are mischievous sprites, not always on the side of good,

and they predate Christianity.

I often wonder about the beliefs of the families that leave a faery in

charge of a burial site.


How deeply would you have to scratch some Christians to find a pagan?


Anyway, this one is pretending to be asleep.

Like the child who is buried under her.

Toddler angels often set out on their daily mission naked. 

At least this little fellow who is playing his fiddle so merrily, was able to grab a loin cloth.


Clothed or not, he seems to be saying that death is nothing to be sad about.


Easy enough for angels to say, I suppose.

Adult angels take their work, and their wardrobe much more seriously.


This fully clothed and lovely young angel's job isn't to tell us anything about heaven.

She is telling us about earth and mourning.

And we instictively recognize the path she is on.


This is the necessary time before 'the letting go'.

At first glance these two appear far too young to be employed in a cemetery. 



But consider this, they are still with the child they were called to watch over

 long after her grave has been abandoned by all who knew her in life.


Not so young after, all.

This isn't a very good photograph but I just had to include it because he looks so guilty.

He's obviously just returned from a dip in a nearby puddle.

And he wasn't expecting me.


But then I wasn't expecting him either.




A lovely end to my walk.

Grave Faces VI

To everything there is a season ...

Ecclesiastes 3:1

Spring is a time to tend to graves.

It is a time to do right by the guardians who have weathered the storms of winter.

This little fellow looks as if he's been waiting an eternity for someone to come and tidy him up.

I've seen students wear that look of resignation when they've been waiting for something necessary but mildly threatening to happen - like a dental screening.

Maybe boy angels don't like their spring baths.

Faeries originated in pre-Christian times and  aren't very common in the graveyards I've visited.

Not surprising because faeries are wild and magical creatures, capable of stealing a person's soul.

This one has a bit of a zombie-ish look but seems friendly enough.  

I found it sitting on the ground in front of a weeping angel.

Pagan and Christian. Two very different attitudes towards life in the other world.

Someone wanted to make sure that all of the spiritual bases were covered, I suppose.

As a rule I don't touch another family's guardians, but this little creature looked so vulnerable I just couldn't leave her on the ground.

I imagine that the spring sun will wake her up.


Or a quick scrub under the faucet if the family gets to her before the warm weather does.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!"

It looks as if she heard me coming and quickly got into position without having had time to wash her face or brush off the flotsam and jetsam of winter.

Not as carefully formed as the last two, but on the other hand she is much younger.

Almost an embryo angel, or one just out of the shell.


She looks chilly, as if she should be snuggled under the wing of her angel mother instead of already on the job.

I seem to have startled this sweet blue bear and timid furry bunny.

They are a poignant reminder that Death comes not just for the old

I imagine them sitting on the child's window sill and watching over the crib the way they now watch over his or her resting place.

Blessed are those who mourn

For they shall be comforted ...

Matthew 5:4

It is extraordinarily peaceful here and although I have found that time doesn't lessen the pain, I hope it has brought some measure of acceptance.

***

Related articles

• Faery Kingdom (thefaerieworld.wordpress.com)
• Faeries, Aliens and Otherworlds - Keys to Parallel Worlds and Multidimensions? (loupdargent.com)

Grave Faces V - Grotesque

A Grotesque is a figure that makes the viewer feel uncomfortable

because of its bizarreness.

 It usually evokes 'empathic' pity.

This Grotesque sits atop a rather ordinary headstone

 in a cemetery that is otherwise heavy with Christian symbolism.

He looks as if he is trying to mind his own business.

Sort of like the kid who thinks,

"If I don't look at the teacher she won't notice that I'm here."

But it isn't easy not being noticed if you live among saints and angels

but have the misfortune of looking like a Hound of Hell.

Year in, year out, he sits hunched over this grave.

He mourns her under the blazing hot summer sun

and through the cruel storms of winter.

This is the beginning of  March.

Soon everything around him will speak of rebirth and renewal and hope

but he won't see it.

He's trapped.

Trapped in the bleakest hours between

Good Friday and Easter Sunday. 

*

Related articles

• Easter: Masking a Biblical Truth (cornerstonediscipleship.wordpress.com)
• Where did we get the name "Easter"? (askthepastors.wordpress.com)
• Quotes on the Resurrection & Historical Jesus (compassioninpolitics.wordpress.com)
• Myths, models and metaphors ... and science? (choiceindying.com)
• Easter and Jesus, How Did This Happen? (socyberty.com)

The Country That Doesn't Forget

 

I go to the old cemetery in Thorold, Ontario, not just because so many family members are buried there or because it has interesting headstones, I also go to let my dog run.

There aren't many recent burials as a new section was opened a while back so Flynn-the-dog and I rarely see anyone else.

During our last solitary walk I came upon this grave by accident.



I actually knew it was somewhere in the cemetery.

Robert McIntosh was the son of my father's cousin and as things happen in small towns I knew him when I was a kid and he was a skinny nice looking teenager.

But his father got a job in the U.S. and the whole family moved Stateside.



Not much was said about the chance the family took until Robert was killed in Viet Nam.



He died over forty years ago.

His parents returned to Canada with their son's body and are buried on his left.

There are no immediate family members left to tend his grave.



You might think that his resting place would only be noticed by people like me, distantly related who happen to be wandering through the old cemetery reading headstones.

Until you notice the crisp new American flag and the crest that must be the insignia of his military unit.



Americans, it seems, don't forget.



I was deeply touched.



























Grave Faces IV

Christmas is all about the birth of the baby Jesus, right?

So you wouldn't expect to find sculptures of the Holy Family in cemeteries, cemeteries being all about death, not birth, right?

They  do show up however, and in light of the Christmas season here are a few versions of the 'grave' Holy Family.

At this tomb Mother and son wear magnificent crowns.

Jesus is looking upwards - to heaven I suppose, but He gives me the impression that He is trying very hard to keep the crown balanced on his head.


Mary looks strained. Like most mothers she is weighed down with responsibilities

- never mind the part about being the Mother of God.

Anyone who knows the story would understand that Joseph's existential moment here is not just for the person whose burial they are attending, but also for his son.

This baby Jesus rests a hand on his father's cheek to comfort him and gazes sympathetically at the mourners.

 

Mother and son look down from the sky at the grave of the person whose burial they have been called to attend.

Such an implacable look on Mary's face. She knows that the fate of the deceased is out of her hands now.

Jesus, although still a toddler, blesses the body.


It almost looks like a formal departure at a train station.

The Holy Family has gathered for a burial in Thorold and Joseph, the old man, is chilled at the thought of death. We see it in his face when he looks directly at the camera.

Mary, is lost in prayer. Unlike her husband, she has no doubts about the soul's journey through the afterlife.

Once again, Jesus raises his hand in a blessing.

And just because it wouldn't be right not to include one,

and because some might argue that municipal politics is a bone yard anyway

Here is a picture of the traditional Christmas creche that stands outside of St. Catharines City Hall.


Enjoy these last few weeks before Christmas, everyone!

Grave Faces

I love cemeteries.

The dead, when I see them in their coffins, don't always look comfortable. Being returned to the earth seems to bring peace.

This is an unusual monument because it is a realistic portrait of a 19th century woman and it stands in a part of the cemetery that is filled with sculptures of angels and saints. 

She gazes down directly into the eyes of anyone who pauses at her grave. She neither judges us, nor tries to save us. Her gaze is so impassive, it looks as if she is on a journey and is waiting for us to pass before she continues.

I wonder about purgatory as I snap her picture.

I found this little fellow standing all alone. This is not an angel, it is a little boy.

I wonder if it is his own or his mother's grave he is forever contemplating. There is no inscription on the statue and the area around him has returned to its natural state.

Such a pensive angel! She isn't praying, she is lost in thought. When I look like that I'm ususallly thinking about what's for supper.

Before I take her picture I wonder what an angel would daydream about while on duty.

Okay, here we have an angel who is definitely at work. She is watching someone intently and she looks ready to spring into action.

Definitely the guardian angel of someone who had a little trouble staying on the straight and narrow while among the living.

This angel is not only praying, she is also pointing the way to heaven in case I have forgotten where it is.

A beautiful, serene angel lost in prayer.

As I walk around this tomb, I hope this playful sculpture of three lost toddlers brought some comfort to their parents.  The inscription and the lamb make me think of the Bible verse I learned as a child:

"Let the little children come to me, and do not forbid them, for of such is the Kingdom of God.

Luke 18:16

Such is the Kingdom of God, indeed.

Have a peaceful, rainy Sunday, everyone!