A Valentine for the World…and for the Church I Left
…him inside. The church was lovely and old, paintings on the walls, mosaic floors, an altar with fresh flowers. It was a real church, not a tourist site, and we sat quietly in a sanctuary where others worshipped. A woman crossed herself finally and stood up. She was my mother’s age, stooped and limping, wearing a headscarf. As she left the church, she began to sing. “Emmanuel,” singing that word over and over, her voice strong and unapologetic. Ev…
Read More