"Lord help me! My boat is so small and your sea is so large."--Fisherman's Prayer
From these stairs, we stretch our necks
to see to the height of a Medieval Danish/
Swedish church. Our leader bears a walking
stick and brochure of the holy places in Lund.
She sings in Latin, expecting us to join.
Irreverently, I think, wasn't this supposed
to be in English? She is full of riddles and
the delight of a good mystery. During the hour-
long pilgrimage, we will understand that her heart
is pure, though she says nothing of it. We will
have enjoyed the blue of her eyes and the wind
blowing her hair into her face and away. Lund
will become a metaphor for the whole world,
its saints, and the passion of Our Lord. Streets
will bear the significance of a bleeding Savior
on the cross; buses unknowingly transport
people through the Eastern Gate of a demolished
church. Long afterward, our son will repeat
"Lord show us your will, and make us willing
to walk it." When the bells ring throughout
the cobbled streets, we leave wondering just
how we who follow Christ, will die.
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