The title passage for Little Altars

I was surprised by how much I loved The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood when I read it several years ago. I'm finally getting around to reading the prequel, Little Altars Everywhere. The humid Louisiana setting and-I don't know what to call it-Gothic optimism make it a perfect early summer book. I noticed on Goodreads today I am reading two different books with pink covers. Jeez, my reading list is turning into some southern belle's wedding shower.

Here is the sequence from the book that gives it its title, taken from a dream Siddha had about an outcast girl she picked on at girl scout camp to fit in:

We are swinging high, flying way up, higher than in real life. And when I look down, I see all the ordinary stuff-our brick house, the porch, the toolshed, the back windows, the oil-drum barbecue pit, the clothesline, the chinaberry tree. But they are all lit up from inside so their everyday selves have holy sparks in them, and if people could only see those sparks, they'd go and kneel in front of them and pray and just feel good. Somehow the whole world looks like little altars everywhere. And every time Edythe and me fly up into the air and then dive down to earth, it's like we're bowing our heads at those altars and we are praying and playing all at the same time.