Carrying the Light

My five-year old grandson attends a small preschool based on the Waldorf philosophy.   Each Fall, their teacher prepares the children for a lantern walk.  They talk and read stories about the coming darkness when the earth moves away from the sun.  On Wednesdays, I pick him up from school and we spend the afternoon together. He told me about the lantern he was making.  “It is real glass jar with beads for the holding part. We painted paper and leaves on the outside. The lanterns hold real fire, and you have to be careful that the fire splash doesn’t get on you.”    

“You could make one, I could show you.”

“I would like that, I said. 

“Didi, can you come to my lantern walk?”

I needed all the available light in these dark days. I imagined the sweet scene of children leading us in the darkness holding small flames to light the night. 

The walk was planned for Michaelmas, an ancient holy day celebrated by various rituals, including those of Waldorf communities to prepare for the darkest days of the year.  The Christian celebration of the holiday teaches the importance of facing fears and strengthening resolve inspired by Saints and Archangels. The light reminds us to shine our inner light brightly and share our gifts with the world even in the darkest times. It happened to fall just two days after the election.

Even though it was across town, in rush hour traffic, drive time 45 minutes, I insisted that Papa Phil join me. We arrived just at 6:00, parked on the quiet street in Richfield, in front of the modest rambler that was home to the school.  Other families and children in strollers and backpacks, called out to greet both their child’s friends and their moms and dads.  “Hi Charlotte!  Is that you Miles?”  I spotted Loren in his fur-lined mushers hat on the sidewalk and hugged him.  All of the dads looked alike with glasses, beards, in stocking caps, but Paul’s voice gave him away, holding Renée who would soon be a student here.  She was quietly watching, not ready to engage. The darkness created a muted anticipation, punctuated by car doors closing and leaves rustling under foot.

Ms. K welcomed us and called each child to receive their lanterns illuminated by a single live flame. She assured the parents that the children had practiced carrying them, slowly and carefully, but they could take an LED light just in case. She then read a story about a boy named George who noticed the coming darkness and went to ask the sun where it had gone. George was told to make a snug house for a spark to live until the light returned, and that the light would burn brightly for others to see. 

The earnest little faces and their adults gave full attention to the meaning of the light, that we would need to be carriers of the light for others. 

I held back tears at the reverence of this small group of families and children focused on their task.  As we processed into the night, the children sang a simple verse, holding hands while we crossed to the park where the children started each school day. The tall oaks and maples loomed large, until we discovered small lights placed among the landmarks of their familiar turf.  A small lantern glowed at the base of the tree where fairies live, hung on the branches that formed an archway that led into an open filed, past the bird’s nest, a circle made from large sticks. Loren was steadfast, his grip steady, lantern glowing by his side. 

In Ms. K’s classroom, the children learn that they are spiritual beings and their actions matter.  Natural elements are the raw materials for learning that provide inspiration for imaginative play in real and imagined worlds.  Fairies might tend gardens, dragons and unicorns could be keepers of a castle. Acorns become gems; small glass stones are exchanged for being a good listener.  Birthdays are celebrated by counting trips around the sun, and felted gathering bags hold precious gifts from nature.

The children also learn that every individual carries a unique portion of the spark of life—an inner light that burns brightly within. 

As we made our way back to the school, safely extinguished the lanterns, said our thanks and goodbyes, I felt a profound gratitude–to witness this ritual, for the children who led us, for the goodness that can be found in the light of others. I felt the sadness lift, replaced with a call to continue to carry the light, whether it is lighting a candle before prayer, on our dinner table each night, or outside our home. Small points of light can transform darkness into hope.