You are invited to visit the table in the classroom wing, just outside the RE office, where you will find baskets of paper leaves and pens. On a leaf, write the name of someone or something that has meant something and has died. A mentor, a teacher, a beloved pet, a family member, a forest, a river, a place that held you. Let this be a moment to name what matters. Add your leaf to the trees placed on either side of the altar box—our Ancestor Trees.
You will also find a basket of scrolls with a blessing for what was real and lost. You are welcome to take one. Read it there in a quiet moment, or tuck it into your pocket for a day when you need to remember that you are not alone. That love persists. That absence, though real, is never the full story.
Please linger to read the names others have offered. Let yourself be moved by the web of connections among us—the invisible threads of people and places that have shaped the ones we now hold in Beloved Community. These names are echoes of resilience, tenderness, and transformation. They remind us that we are always standing on sacred ground.
And as you reflect, consider this: What does it mean to become an ancestor? To live in such a way that one day, someone might speak your name with love and longing?
This is not just a ritual of memory. It’s a quiet invitation to live with greater intention, greater courage, and greater tenderness, for those who came before, those who walk beside us now, and those who will follow.
Our trees will remain up until we read the names offered there in the service on November 1st.
With you in the mystery,
Skyla
