There were about 20 of us scattered across the stacking chairs. The Monsignor was a dapper man with a sense of humour. Behind him, many Catholic churches would have a triptych: a richly decorated image of the divine intended to evoke awe. Here there was a picture window. Someone had sensibly concluded that no quantity of paint and imagination was going to match the sight of Blackcomb mountain. As the mass progressed the blue sky darkened and cloud softened and then dissolved the mountain. Snow began to fall. By the time we were exchanging the sign of peace the snow had thinned and the forest around the church was still.
This is the speed a heart should beat.
Sounds a lot like peace.
OTJ – I thought of you yesterday. As I jogged through the forest my mind wandered to thoughts of Forest Rangers
Ah, the trump card of good old Nature.
Just beautiful…as always Moobs.
Moobs, this stole my breath.
Your writing is always so elegant. I love it.
Lovely.
Come to pray, stay to ski?
It is lovely there…a place good for the soul..when not screaming down a hill or putting down some tasty pints or shopping.
Hope you guys are having fun!
As far as I know I am around on the 27th. Send us an email at u n h e l p f u l at gmail. (without the gaps).
Wow. I write about that in my books – nature matching or enhancing the emotion of a scene. How lovely to see it actually happens! š
Be still my beating heart.
Very evocative writing. Spare but powerful. Enjoyed it a lot!
sounds an amazing experience. i once went to mass at le mont st michel and all you could see through the (almost) clear windows were birds and sky – fantastic. xx
(peace be with you)