I get my love of cathedrals from my dad. I can’t walk past one without feeling the tug within me to step inside, walk the cloister and the aisles, step down into the crypt. There’s something about the history held in those stone walls, the myriad individuals who have walked across the same flagstones before me, perhaps with the same burning but wondering faith in their hearts.
This past summer, we took a day trip into France to visit Metz, and as always my compass drew me straight towards the towering Saint-Étienne cathedral in the centre of this romantically-dishevelled French town.
Inside, I wandered around with my face turned upward – this church has the largest expanse of stained glass in the world. I marvelled over the Marc Chagall windows, my favourite artist, and played a game with myself: spot the bible story. One point for correct character, two for correct story.
As I wandered back up the aisle towards the door where my parents and my ever-patient husband were already waiting, I looked up one more time and saw them…
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I’m over at She Loves today, sharing about the cloud of witnesses that has surrounded me through my own walk. Join me over there?
