An Experience of Faith

As a young college student I lived in Spain for several months as an exchange student.  Being in a foreign country was an awesome learning experience for me.  This memory comes from one of my visits to a Spanish cathedral, probably in Segovia, Spain. 

The cool, dark air tinged with the scent of incense was a stark contrast to the hot, dry air of the Spanish sun.  It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the dark of the interior of the cathedral.  I had longed to enter here, hoping to find a connection to the saints in this holy place.  The cathedral was enormous, dark and smelled faintly of rosemary.  The air was cool and musty and only the shuffling of visitors’ feet broke the silence.

I began to walk around the space slowly looking at the statues in the various alcoves, stopping to try to interpret the stories depicted in the paintings and by the figures.   

The large brown eyes of the saints, looking up to heaven, experiencing God’s presence in their lives, haunted me. So solemn, so dark, they seemed, lit only by the lights of small votive candles left as a prayer offering.

I saw Mary, emblazoned with gold, looking at the wounds her son endured.  He was covered in deep, red blood and jeweled stones made water seem to pour from her eyes. Mary, the mother of God, the feminine face of God, came alive for me as I witnessed her mourning the loss of her son. I could see her sorrow. I could feel her sorrow.  I had a certain knowing of her sorrow then. She, who experienced the pain of motherhood way beyond what I could comprehend.

As I approached the main altar, I looked up in awe. The ceilings were so high, arched and beautiful.  The stained glass allowed in just enough colored light to cast a contrast of light and dark shadows on the crucifix.  I proceeded into the main area and took a seat on one of the hard, wooden benches.  Just as I looked up again, one thin beam of light seemed to light up Christ’s face.  His big, dark eyes were looking upwards.  He was clearly in pain and sorrow.  This was not what his humanness could endure and I was immediately struck with a thought,

“He died for ME!” 

The altar was full of flowers  and skulls and there almost seemed to be smoke rising up in the beams of light to the ceiling.  Almost like an echo, I heard singing coming through the cathedral as some monks began to chant.  It was very calming and beautiful. I sat for a few moments to ponder. Slowly a prayer formed in my head and in the beating of my heart and my slow steady breathing. I had a strong realization of the presence of Christ with me.

            “Christ died for ME!” 

I knew he was a man of sorrows, many losses, pain and death. This was the  dark story portrayed in this place.  But I also knew as I walked slowly out of the dark cathedral, that just as the bright light of the afternoon Spanish sun hit my face and I looked up towards the sky, that there was something greater than death that followed.  There was to be a resurrection to this story.  There was light, renewal, and hope.

            “Christ died for ME!

Yet He also LIVES for me!”

 "Never resign yourself to the 

Inevitable

For the inevitable is what has been buried with

 the rising of the unimaginable."

-Easter Service

Roots of Life Community

Noblesville, IN

           

                       

There's no wasting time in Spain...it's all important and precious!

From my journal.... while I was visiting in Segovia, Spain, May 18, 2014

I can't believe how fast the days are flying by here.  Now I'm starting to feel a bit more relaxed and the emotions about the passing away of my Spanish papá feel so real and close today.
I decided to walk up the highway towards the "parador".  It was only about 3km up to the area where they have such beautiful views of the entire city of Segovia.

From there, you can see the "acueducto", the cathedral, the "muralla" (walls of the city), the castle, (Alcázar)...all of it in eye's view.  A picture doesn't really do it justice. It's really so much more beautiful in real time.

As I was looking out over the scenic view at the cathedral of Segovia, I saw a very large bird fly in front of the view and begin to fly towards me high in the sky.  It was black and white with a huge wing span and I immediately had a thought that I wanted to ask papá, "¿Cómo se dice el nombre de este pájaro en español?"

It was a stork. I had remembered the type of bird, but I couldn't remember the word in Spanish.  How frustrated and sad I felt that I couldn't turn to papá and ask him.  He taught me so many things, just as my own father had...about the birds, the flowers, the stories from all the towns we visited.  I stood there looking at the views with those majestic-looking birds swooping and diving through the sky in front of me and I cried.

They say that people we love visit us in nature.  Just like the other day when a butterfly painting of papa's fell out of a stack of old letters and pictures we were looking at.  I knew at that moment that his spirit was there...in me and around me.  I just felt his presence so strongly as I looked out over beautiful Segovia.  I saw it as he did, a beautiful painting, something to behold and treasure.

All of a sudden, I knew! It came to me like that, a thought, an answer! Papá told me the name of the bird in Spanish, "una cigüeña"! A stork! The birds that make their nests in the bell towers of the churches.  He was still there answering my questions...giving me love and care...his "hija americana".

One of Papa's Paintings of Segovia