I have been visiting this outdoor cathedral called The Grotto lately. It's only 2o blocks from our home so sometimes I take one of the kids along with me when the other is napping and Matt is studying. Walking through this forest is soothing to my troubled soul. This place smells and sounds like home - the wet earth, dropping rain, the chatter of unseen birds. Forests have always felt sacred to me having grown up among the ancient and wise Redwoods, some of which have been around since the time of Christ.
The Grotto emphasizes the sacredness of this space for me because set in rocky clefts along the path are the Stations of the Cross. When I'm feeling shaky I walk along the path and they remind that I have not yet suffered in full. And I probably never will. It's comforting to remember the Story of Hope. Pain. The human condition. And the unusual ability of a person to overcome it. Even death.
I've started telling Brendan the story as we visit the stations. He is particularly moved by Mary's sorrow. He grasps her outstretched hand at one of the stations and I can see that he feels her pain. I can only imagine it.
The rain that baptizes this cathedral makes it all the more compelling. As the trees slowly shed the morning rain from their branches they make these stone figures look like they have blood, sweat and tears streaming down them. Hmm... Maybe they do.
View more pics HERE.
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