It Was a Pilgrimage After All by Susan

My initial impressions of Martyr's Shrine weren't so good. The massive gray stone church towered over the driveway. There were three flights of stairs leading up to the front door,which was locked. The two bell towers on either side of the door made it feel more like a medieval castle than a house of God. We worked our way around to the side where the door lay open and inviting. Once inside,memories of church washed over me: no laughing, no skipping, no running and for goodness sakes, sit still! It was all so serious. The Anglican ritual: stand, sit, kneel, stand, sit,kneel...Later, I was in the youth choir (anything to get out of Sunday school) and we had to kneel the entire time the congregation filed past us to recieve communion at the front. It was a regular occurance for one of us to drop like a stone. Came close myself one hot Sunday morning, my choir robes stifling in the still, stuffy air. I remember entering the cramped robe room and someone took a look at me. The next thing I knew I was sitting down with my head between my knees. Lost in memory I wandered out of the Church and explored the grounds, walking the stations of the Cross which are beautifully laid out. I've never done this before. God whispered to me the entire time and helped me see past the religious trappings and pomp. Clouds were gathering, heavy with rain and thunder so I wandered back into the Church. I had the place to myself except for a man who was meticulously vacuuming the carpets. The quiet droning hum of the machine made me smile because it restored the common touch and made God's House a Home.. God meets us where we are every single time, in a cathedral, in a hospital, in loss, in celebration...the list is endless and I stand in awe of His Grace.