tintinnabulation

The church bells are missing. Every evening for the past 18 years that we have lived here, I've heard them, with varying degrees of awareness. Often as background to cleaning up from dinner, sometimes as accompaniment with dinner or the visits that go along with mealtime. Frequently the songs are ones I know, and I sing along in my heart. Occasionally, an unknown song plays, and I wonder what it's about. The week of July 4th, patriotic songs were in the mix, making me think of Dad and his funeral (the not-so-painful parts).

There was a time, quite a while ago, when I wondered if being agnostic would be better than the limbo I felt I was in. The church bells were part of the reason I stuck with my faith, lukewarm as it was. They were too beautifully reminding me of songs and messages I had always loved. [I realize now that I was likely suffering from mild depression, rather than a lack of faith, per se. But I imagine the feeling is similar.]

Lately, the bells have served their traditionally intended purpose: a call to prayer. At 6:00 each evening, I have been beautifully and gently reminded that if I haven't yet said my prayers, I should make the time before the evening gets away from me. I often sit on our balcony and pray the rosary or another devotion, or do some spiritual reading, with the sound of bells in the air.

Monday night, I had somewhere to be from 6-7, and as I got in the car, I realized the new weekly appointment would mean that I wouldn't hear the bells. But I reassured myself that it was for a very good reason, so it was okay. Tuesday night, I wondered around 6:30 just what I had been so busy doing that I didn't even hear them. I'm pretty sure whatever I'd been doing, I should have been able to hear them, but perhaps I was just preoccupied or distracted. Wednesday was one of those days when I just felt like my life was crumbling; like I'd made the wrong decisions, and there was no way to reset. A dear friend and I "chatted" for a while in between weeding, and something he said resonated with me: "Your faith exploration has been wonderful and it seems to have been feeding you." He had been asking about coping mechanisms, and how most of my usual ones were on summer hiatus. [and it's been far too hot, although that hasn't stopped me from doing more yard work than is usual for me! And I've been enjoying it, too!] This morning another friend said, after I told her that I find myself wondering where I'd gone wrong, that she figures that God must find himself asking the same question about His children.

Tonight, when I made myself very aware of the 6:00 hour approaching, and no music started, I realized that I may have come to depend on the bells in a way. I sat on the the balcony and missed the church bells. There was thunder, so I was well aware of not being alone in any way. But the bells are missing. I'm not one of those who is against change, or new things, but I do miss things. I hope the bells are on vacation. I'm off Tuesday, so if they haven't been found by then, I think I will walk over and enquire. They truly are one of the perks of living here.