Posted by on Oct 11, 2011 in Photographs, Sacred Places | 0 comments

An instinctive taste teaches men to build their churches with spire steeples which point as with a silent finger to the sky and stars. 

~Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The sky was clear and brilliant blue the day I arrived. I walked casually down the cobblestone streets, examining the shop windows and their contents. The sounds of the village, rising and falling, lent background music to my adventure. When I turned the corner, a flock of birds burst into flight from the square, taking my gaze directly to the spire in the sky.

A young man appeared beside me. “Those birds sit up there and sing,”

“What?” His statement startled me. .

“Those birds.” He pointed to the flock now perched on the edge of the church roof, just over the massive, carved, wooden doors. “They sit up there and sing for hours,” he said. “Watch!”

And so my day was set. I sat in the square, mesmerized by nature’s display. The birds chimed in with leads and harmony, solos and chorus. I felt as if I’d witnessed the voice of God rising up to the sky from that simple church along my path.

~Bonnie Cranmer

Throughout the week, I pass by this church. Sometime I rush along, vaguely aware of its presence. At other times, I notice its grandeur. Today, a yearning within me compels me to stop. I stand and look. Do I dare invade its sanctuary? I need its solace. I need the quiet within, the peace that fills it.

On bended knee, I plead for comfort and hope. Silently, I pray for knowledge and wisdom. Is there is a way to heal from life’s hurts? Can I jump from this disturbing life path to one I would be proud to travel? Will I find belonging here if I join the congregation in thanks and praise?

The afternoon sun pierces the stained glass, yet gently enfolds me. The colored light holds me in this haven, carving space within me to bring the sacred into my life. At peace, I now leave, my heart filled with thanksgiving.

~Cathy Chapman

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