Topic: Door. Unedited stream of thought.
I’m a wanderer. One of the things I enjoy the most is a day without purpose, without weights and worries to simply roam wherever the road takes me.
One such day, in late afternoon when the sun casts that amber hue that always takes me back to some sentimental place, we found our way to a church. St. Marys church, tucked away in the country, high upon a hill overlooking river and valleys. Completely alone, we quietly strolled between the stones in the old church yard, reading the ancient names and dates then wandered to the church. As we approached the heavy wooden door , I couldn’t help but recall the song my mother sang to me as a child and her mother before her…”two little children, a boy and a girl, sat down by the old church door….” I tried the handle and with slight surprise, it swung open with ease and again I was taken back to the days when church doors were always left open. There’s something almost sacred about stepping through that door, into an empty sanctuary, as if walking on Holy ground. Inside, uncommon silence in a usual hectic, roaring world and the waning sun shown through stained glass inspires an inner calm like whispered prayers and I left my care, weights and worries at the old church door.
P.S The song I mentioned above….A sad song really. Two newly orphaned children, having no place to go, sit at the old church door and during the night die in the cold . Right now I’m thinking…..WHAT THE HELL were they thinking, sing this to a child, but that’s a phone call I need to make and another blog.
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