This is a photo taken in a plane on Pentecost. The mist was billowing out from the vents underneath the luggage compartments above our heads and it was Pentecost. I was in a foul mood for having to travel on a Sunday and I found the whimsical event soothing and helpful and humorous.
We tend to avoid discussing the Holy Spirit in Anglicanism. We find her penchant for disorder and mischievousness unnerving I think. I love that about her. She whisps into situations from little cracks in our surety and messes up our hair when we are trying to be furious or demanding or self-righteous. She smirks when we are trying to me commanding and imperious. She snickers out loud when we are arguing which candle on the altar is supposed to be put out first in the rule books. She smiles at us when we feel molten shame. She touches our cheek when we are just about to cry – so that, in the end, we do.
