Sunday Morning

I don’t believe in religion, but the aesthetics of Catholicism have stuck with me. I love the way church incense coats my hair and skin. It is a safe smell, like a blanket… I envy the faithful. There are shrines dotted around the hillsides here in Ireland, places where saints have supposedly appeared and healed the sick. There are wells of holy water and statues in the rocks, huts filled with prayer cards and gardens filled with painted stones in memory of loved ones who have passed away. I like to visit them occasionally. I sit in the stillness and observe people crying and praying and I close my eyes and try to let some of their hope get carried on the air and through my pores. I would like to believe that everything is accounted for, that there is life after this one, and that all of our decisions hold some kind of significance or moral worth. There is weight in religion. It is an anchor of sorts.

~ Jessica Andrews, Saltwater: A Novel (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, January 14, 2020)


Notes: Photo: Patryk Sadowski with Church of Ireland

Comments

  1. Another beautiful share. Thank you David.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. ” I close my eyes and try to let some of their hope get carried on the air and through my pores.” – my favorite line of this beautiful post

    Liked by 2 people

  3. ” I close my eyes and try to let some of their hope get carried on the air and through my pores.” – my favorite line of this beautiful post

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Some lovely content shared again this week, David. Love following this blog.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Sounds spiritual to me – and haunting. I think one can doubt and question and still seek to believe. Therein lies hope, I think.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Reblogged this on Me In The Middle and commented:
    Good Morning! Sharing a lovely post by one of my favorite bloggers.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. It is cold on this shore. One of my greatest comforts in western Ireland (there were many!) was seeing Mary statues out in the wild hills, and ancient home-made Stations of the Cross in folks’ yards.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. My mother’s faith runs deep. It is her ballast, her anchor, her strength. As I watch her in these final days of her presence here on earth, it is her faith I feel embracing her, supporting her, carrying her. Because yes, in her faith there is hope. Ultimately, it is her faith that will carry her over the threshold.

    Thank you for the words and tears this morning David.

    Liked by 2 people

  9. I feel exactly like the author… lovely share, David.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Dude, you’re on a roll. Two for two this week.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. My favorite line as well…”I sit in the stillness and observe people crying and praying and I close my eyes and try to let some of their hope get carried on the air and through my pores”
    (and I wonder how many have wandered into a Church sit for awhile, find hope, comfort, strength and sheltered…our hospital is in the next town over…it is Catholic the chapel is visited daily…so many needing direction, comfort and solace)
    Early this month my 89 year old father in law was vacationing, staying at his son’s home two flights away…He has limited vision and hearing and some how he managed on foot to find his was to attend daily mass…it is his “anchor”…he is now back home…under 24 hours care, his earthly journey is near its end…Heaven bound…

    Liked by 1 person

  12. Oh so lovely

    Liked by 1 person

  13. I feel the same way.

    Liked by 1 person

  14. I’m an atheist, but find this passage compelling.

    Liked by 1 person

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