Thursday, February 24, 2011


This is a place where my grandparents trod before my father came into being; a place where my father and aunts prayed as children. It is a place where I was a young child before words organized emotion, where a sense of sacredness was imprinted upon me through my senses.

I fix each image in the crosshairs of my lens, preserving it for memory like the child taking temporary leave of the comb, the brush and the bowl full of mush in “Good Night Moon.”

The Cartesian crosshairs of my lens as I shoot, not to kill but to preserve, align themselves with the cross of Christ. This church represents the convergence of all my loves.

May the Holy Spirit help all to envision each of us and this house through the lens of mercy.

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