For Just a Moment, I'm Sure She Was There

 By Marilyn Moore

I heard a variation of this sentence several times at holiday gatherings, “For just a moment, I’m sure she was there.”  Words spoken by a friend, in wonder and awe and uncertainty, describing the sense that her mom, who died recently, was there in the room at a family gathering.  For just a moment…seemingly unseen by others, but there, definitely there.  Not just a memory, but…there. Some spoke of not seeing, but hearing the voice, of a parent or grandparent who is no longer living.  Another friend said, somewhat hesitantly, “I talk to them,” and the person sitting next to her said, in a rush, and with relief to hear those words, “So do I.” 

I believe these experiences are real, and that they are true. Several years ago I first learned of the Celtic understanding of “thin places,” those places, or times, where the veil between this world and heaven becomes so thin that we sense we are on the threshold, we sense the presence of God, the Divine, the Holy…. The thin places may be places, like mountaintops (where the air is thin) or sea or prairie horizons (where the sea or land blends into the sky, as one).  Thin places may be times, like dawn, or dusk, where it is neither daylight nor darkness, but the moments between.  And they may be experiences, with music, or art, or an intensely loving moment among two or more people, in which a sense of the presence of the Holy is present.  I’ve experienced these places, and times, and moments…and they are soul-sustaining.

I’ve since come to know that many cultures and faiths have expressions and experiences similar to the thin places.  The Iroquois prophet said, “The distance between our surface world and the world of the spirits is exactly as wide as the edge of the maple leaf.”  Thin, indeed…. 

In Iceland, I heard stories of kindling elves, part of traditional Icelandic culture, who are able to slip easily between realms.  They are described as gatekeepers; I like to think of them as the creatures of the light, escorting others from one realm to the next.  

And in our present physical world, we learned this summer from images from the James Webb telescope that we are able to “see” planets, stars, and galaxies as they were born billion years ago, and as they are coming into life today.  Wondrous, almost magical….but real, very real.  Time folding across vast expanses, literally more than my mind can comprehend, creates the image of a thin place, both physical and temporal…and my soul soars as I catch my breath in awe.

And what does all this have to do with Mom, who died several years ago, whose chair is empty at the family gathering, being present, not only in memory, but for just a moment, really present, as the family gathers?  Thornton Wilder said that there is a land of the living and a land of the dead, and the bridge between the two is love.  It seems very real to me that if cultures across time and in many corners of the planet have understood that there are moments when one can be in this world and the next, and that if we have watched as very old stars and very new stars are being born, then with love, it is possible to bridge this world and the next…and Mom is there, for just a moment, really there.  

(I am indebted to Dr. Jane Florence for some of the content of this blog. The application to Mom, however firm or shaky it may be, is totally my own.)

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