Excuse Me While I Kiss The Sky

It was precisely 7pm. As I cleared away the supper dishes, the bangs from the fireworks reverberated across the valley and rattled our  window panes. (Our fireworks are anything but muted – you’d be forgiven for thinking that a war had broken out). Our neighbouring town was celebrating the feast of St Joseph. With each eardrum-shattering bang, the memories came hurtling back. Excuse me, while I kiss the sky …

In an  instant, I was there again, a little child with mouth agape, staring at the statue of the saint silhouetted against the high doorway of the church. Around me, paper confetti floated down gently, landing in my hair, on my shoulders and in a pile at my feet; while around me the cacophony of pealing bells and almighty bangs mingled with the shrill, hissing sound of hand-held firecrackers. All thoughts were drowned out and all eyes were fixed on the gentle face of the carpenter from Galilee, who held the infant Jesus in one hand and his lilly-topped staff in the other. My small hand was entwined in my Nanna’s much  bigger one. She squeezed it tight; as the statue was held aloft and paraded slowly through the streets of the town, hundreds of lips mouthed silent prayers. Excuse me while I kiss the sky …

That was many years ago – a time of simple faith and a simpler way of life. This country has changed, as has that impressionable child. Now I know that faith comes from within and has nothing to do with statues, or bells or fireworks from hell. It is strange, this thing we call faith - as tenuous as a cobweb; and, like a cobweb, it clings to us in ways we cannot even imagine.  Faith transcends time; transcends generations – it is a subliminal link to the divine. Excuse me while I kiss the sky …

So every year, when those stentorian bangs boom like cannons across the valley, forcing me out of my reverie, a part of me longs to just drop everything and stand there again - in front of that lofty doorway - with the chilly March air nipping my nose and with my hand held warm and secure by my Nanna; while around us paper confetti float down like spring rain, buildings shudder with each successive boom and bang, and the night sky lights up in a rainbow of shimmering colours – all  underneath the benevolent eyes of the carpenter from Galilee. Excuse me while I kiss the sky.

Location: Church of St Mary of Jesus, Rabat

This post was inspired by:

                           Source: cottagecoastalstore.com via Lorna on Pinterest