The splendor of St. Patricks

My 11 year old son Zachary whispered in my ear tonight-"look at the castle behind the priest." "It's an altar," I replied.

He was right though-the beautifully carved arches reaching to the heavens looked magnificent! In fact, everywhere my eyes roamed, I saw days gone by, another era, a supernatural world where angels and saints and sinners co-existed and in their midst-the son of God, the savior-the soul of serenity.

St. Patrick's Church is a jewel among New Orlean's churches. The historic landmark on Camp street has always felt like home. It inspires memories of all the churches and Cathedrals my mom shuffled me and my siblings into throughout Europe and stateside. The cypress pews, carved elevated pulpit and the 18th century murals are warmly familiar, making me feel safe and secure.

I learned my Love for religious architecture and artwork inside the walls of churches just like St. Pat's and so I'm hoping to pass on my enthusiasm to my boys. I enticed Zachary and Jacob on this little field trip, by telling them the service is much shorter than elsewhere...No singing I said--but the scenery is something to behold. They were thrilled!

The sermon may be standard, but there's something so special about being seated beneath the Transfiguration or Jesus walking on water, that is peacefully comforting as we carry our personal crosses. For me, it feels as though I am wrapped in heaven's embrace, and nothing and no one can harm me.

My children were clearly amazed at the intensity of their surroundings ...but Zack-true to form-couldn't help but notice-there was no water fountain in the back. Nope-just holy water and a river of graces flowing throughout these sacred walls.

I'm thinking--they may need a few more visits for the significant splendor to sink in.

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