Exploring new ways of seeing, new ways of being with an open heart and an open mind
Monday, January 14, 2013
That's How the Light Gets In
One Sunday, when I was about 11 years old, my father and I were late for church so we stood in the vestibule with the doors to the congregation closed. We knew they were mid-way through the opening prayer, The Lord's Prayer. As we quietly waited to enter, my father - who had a wonderfully wicked sense of humor - reached for the rope that rang the bell in the steeple every Sunday morning and pretended he was going to pull it. Thinking of the response that might ensue, I fell into a fit of stifled laughter. My father just stood there with that little smile on his face, satisfied that he had made me laugh and awfully happy to boot. As the preacher arrived at the "Amen," I composed myself and we opened the doors, entering the church with just the right amount of irreverence. Some days I really miss my dad.
Photo taken on my trip to Maine in the spring of 2010.