Cold

I live in an ancient stone house....

Up leaf-littered stone stairs....

Surrounded by a mossy stone wall....

Yesterday's snow lingers. This morning the river valley is blanketed in thick, heavy fog.

It is cold.

I plan my day around the cold. I stack wood, walk the dogs, sweep and clean to stay warm.

When I sit...to read, to write, to dream...the cold seeps in.

Multiple layers, fleece, a hat...and still it seeps in.

When I'm cold, I can only think about how to get warm

But not too warm.

Don't sweat, don't get chilled...that's even worse than just the cold.

People sleeping over the heat vents on the streets of Des Moines

Or huddled in tents in those make-shift campsites along the river.

Men and women wrapped in sleeping bags stretched out in the doorways of Paris.

Or along the Canal St. Martin in cardboard shelters.

The homeless. The clochards.

They are cold.

Mind-numbing, bone-chilling cold.

Cold that defines life...or death for some.

I light the fire laid on the hearth,

The logs crackle and burn.

I ignite the gas heater and roll it closer.

Its blue flames dance.

Instant warmth for me.

Who warms the others?

Shutting Out the World

I snapped this photo on my visit to Calvignac in September. It's not unusual to find modern art installations in rather strange places in France; that this one was at the entrance of a beautiful medieval village did not surprise me. While it wasn't particularly beautiful, I felt compelled to get a few pictures of it; I was reminded of those photos last weekend at my Centering Prayer meeting. As we settled to begin the prayer session, three people in the group took off their glasses and put them on the table in the center of our circle. It struck me that I take my glasses off as well when I pray, and I began to ponder that. Which was NOT a good thing, since during Centering Prayer one is supposed to let all thoughts go and not engage in them. Anyway...why do we take our glasses off to pray? I believe that it's a symbolic way of disengaging from the world and of turning within. If you can't see the busy-ness of the world, you can't be distracted by it when you pray. Sometimes I even need to put my hands over my eyes to help me focus; if I'm wearing my glasses, I can't do that. What helps you shut out the world when you pray? Do you remove your glasses? Do you darken the room? Lock the door? Take the phone off the hook? How do you follow Jesus' command: "Whenever you pray, go to your room, close the door, and pray to your Father in private?"

Merci Lady

Since I'm not Catholic, many of the saints, customs, and ceremonies that I encountered as I visited the churches of France last month had little meaning for me other than simply being beautiful. Laury introduced me to one of her rituals, however, that made so much sense that I've decided to adopt it. She has her favorite Merci Ladies at each of the churches in her area. The Merci Lady is, of course, the Virgin Mary, but a statue of her that usually stands alone, dressed simply as a blessed and faithful woman. No fancy robes or crowns of glory; no Infant or dying Christ in her arms. She stands waiting to help, open to your prayers. Laury always lights a candle and says a prayer of thanks, a merci prayer to this woman of God. Once I started looking for the Merci Lady, I saw her in every church. And I, too, would light a candle and say a prayer of thanks...for friendship, for opportunity, for all the blessings that God has bestowed upon me. Do you have a ritual to offer thanks to God? Do you have a Merci Lady in your spiritual life?

This lovely Merci Lady stands in the 15th century church at St.-Cirq-Lapopie.

Rocamadour

It's hard to avoid churches and pilgrimage sites when you visit France. Religion has played a huge part in the history of this country and is still an important part of its patrimony. This photo is from my visit to Rocamadour, a major pilgrimage site on the way to Santiago de la Compostela in Spain. Several of France's kings made pilgrimage to this holy place that has roots as far back as the 7th century. A pilgrim wishing to do penitence would ascend these stairs on his knees, praying the rosary at each step. There are 287 steps to the church of the Black Virgin at the top. I can only wince in imagined pain at the toll these steps took on the pilgrims' knees!

While there are many other churches in France that have a Black Virgin, the one at Rocamadour is one of the most famous. To me, she is also the most beautiful. The dim light in the church made it hard to get a good photo, but I hope you can appreciate how special she is. In some ways this trip feels like my pilgrimage. I'm still not sure exactly where this pilgrimage is leading me or just what God's plan is in all this sacred exploration and spiritual beauty. Maybe the early pilgrims weren't sure either. My prayer is that I, like them, can find my way to what God intends.

The Church in St. Cirq Lapopie

I'm frequently surprised by churches in France. An ancient facade can hold relics and art from the long distant past or it can open into a bright modern space. You just never know when you pull open the big wooden doors what you may find inside. The 15th century church in St. Cirq Lapopie was that kind of surprise. Instead of being dark and dim inside, it was white, airy, and open. The walls were still lined with tiny chapels devoted to different saints and the Holy Family, but each chapel had a unique, more modern style. I loved this one dedicated to the Virgin, a gem of blue niched into the white wall illuminated by votives.

Then stepping outside the Virgin's chapel, I'm thrilled by this very modern art installation...a tree leafed with stainless steel bicycle wheels . Reaching high up to the Romanesque vaulted ceiling, does it signify movement toward God? Living modernity growing from a dying world? Or fresh thoughts about religion rooted in the old, established tradition? Or is it....just art!

"Find My Church"

I'm counting down the days until I leave for a month's sojourn in France. I probably don't need to tell you that I'm excited about this trip. While in my heart, I shouted an immediate "YES!" to the opportunity to make the trip when it was presented in March, my mind had to think about it awhile. You know...figure out all the details, ponder the 'what ifs,' count the pennies, weigh the pros and cons. Yes, I wanted more than anything to have this adventure, and I also wanted some reassurance that it was the right thing to do as it could be (and I expect it will be!) a life-changing experience. Part of my spiritual practice is to spend some time every day in quiet time with God; time when I stop talking and instead listen for His direction. I do this on my drive into work. For several mornings I had talked with God about whether it really was the right thing to do, hoping that I would hear a big 'yes' from Him. Being in quiet time and merging onto I-35 from the St. Charles exit, this is what I heard..."Find my church." Loud and clear, not my words, but His. So I did. I will worship with the Anglican Community that I found in Cahors. I've emailed their church secretary; I'm told they welcome visitors. I have the schedule of services, and directions to the Catholic parish In Cahors where they meet. Their priest serves another parish as well, so Holy Eucharist is offered only every other Sunday. I have found God's church in the Lot.