Posted by on Oct 20, 2011 in Photographs, Sacred Artifacts | 0 comments

In times of trouble, she reaches instinctively for her neckline and lets her fingers find the shiny metal sculpture hanging from its delicate chain, her sacred crucifix. In times of great joy, as though on autopilot, she moves to the hall and stands before the painting of Christ on the cross. She shares her smile with Him. “Thank you, Jesus” she whispers as her trembling hands reach to touch his heart.

Her association with and love of the most powerful representation of sacrifice to mankind is only slightly smaller than her love of Jesus himself.

As she imagines His pain, she is unburdened of her own. His loss of life so that she may better understand love moves her tender heart every day. My mother crosses herself, then looks at his head wrapped in thorns, his body held up by spikes and she offers her praise. She begs for guidance, that her own life be a model of His. This plea, her unending request, lies at the base of the wooden cross he hangs on, her devotion to Him never wavering.

 ~Tam Veilleux

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