November: Between Earth and Heaven
November arrives quietly. The clocks have gone back, the evenings draw in, and a stillness settles over the fields. This is not yet Advent, not quite winter, but the days are steeped in remembrance. The Church begins with All Saints’ Day (1st November) and All Souls’ Day (2nd November), when we remember the faithful departed: the known and unknown, the great and the ordinary.
This month is a threshold between worlds, when we honour those who have gone before us and confess the hope that death is not the end. Nature itself seems to echo this truth: leaves fall and return to the soil, not as waste but as nourishment. Trees stand bare, yet life runs unseen in their roots.
November invites us not to rush toward Christmas, but to sit with memory, grief, and hope: to trust that darkness is a place where God also dwells.
From the Earth
The land grows sparse and stripped back. Frost rims the grass in early morning, mist curls low over fields, and bare branches sketch the sky in black lines. The last of the leaves fall: copper, ochre, and brown, gathering in drifts along lanes and garden walls.
Flocks of fieldfares and redwings arrive from Scandinavia, feeding on berries in hawthorn and rowan trees. Starlings begin their dusk murmurations, swirling like smoke over reedbeds. The ground softens with rain. Conkers, beech nuts, and acorns lie scattered, some already taken by squirrels who bury them in faith of spring.
Those Who Went Before
St Martin of Tours (Feast Day: 11th November)
St Martin of Tours was a 4th-century Roman soldier turned monk and bishop, remembered most for a single act of compassion. On a cold night, he saw a beggar shivering at the city gate. Martin cut his cloak in half and shared it. Later, in a dream, Christ appeared to him wearing that same half-cloak, saying, “Martin, a mere catechumen, has clothed me.”
Martin left the army soon after, living simply, founding small communities of prayer and service. He became bishop by popular demand but remained humble, preferring to spend time among the poor and rural villages.
His feast sits deep in November, a reminder that holiness is sometimes nothing more than refusing to walk past someone in need, even when the world is cold.
A Prayer in Action
This month, light a candle at dusk each day: even for just a moment. Place it on a windowsill or table. As you light it, pray quietly:
“For the faithful departed.
For those who grieve.
For those who walk in darkness.
Christ, be their light — and mine.”
You might also write the names of loved ones gone before, placing them beside the candle, not to dwell in sorrow, but to remember in hope.
“The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness has not overcome it.”
