Not So Stationary by Susan L.

I wandered through the hallowed grounds,symbols of piety sprouted in order along the paving-stone path.With an artist's eye I appreciated the careful skill that made these: how folded arms drew the focus to the Figure, larger than life.Shining, gleaming statues cast in earthy bronze caught the light, to last for eons just as the Story they tell has lasted. They puzzled me; their flower borders forcing distance, passive guardians of their Station. I watched bumblebees feast for a while yet longed to get closer, to admire the skill that depicted the human Form wrapped in linen that folded with weight imagined. I longed to peer into the face of Christ, to comfort Him because He looked so sad, so bewildered. And I asked myself, "Was He really sad?". He knew His purpose. He knew His calling. He knew His Father's heart. I have a picture on my wall at home, the face of Jesus laughing a belly laugh that seems to have been surprised out of Him by some small delight. Then I remember how the sins of one man brought me to my knees. He bore the weight of millions. Once again I look at the photos of the statuary Tale. The sad countenance is gone. I see the Prince of Peace. _______________________________________________ I had been overwhelmed by the grandeur at Martyr's Shrine preferring the simple things that connect me to my Lord. Once again He was faithful. The fourteen stations were dry except for a single drop of water that hung like a diamond from the hand of Christ as He fell for the very first time. "The wellspring of wisdom is a flowing brook." Prov. 18:4