Wednesday, August 13, 2014




After stopping at Café Rouge, an amazing French restaurant with an open-air window overlooking St Paul's Cathedral, we attended Even Song on the anniversary of my Mom's death exactly a year ago. (July 30th)

Listening to the cherub-faced little boys of all ages and nationalities, singing like angels in the ornate wooden Choir that craftsmen hundreds of years ago spent their entire lives carving, I looked to the sky and beheld the swirling tile mosaics in their golden and dark, blood-colored hues, and I started talking to my Mom  in my head, of course  and the tears were soon running down my face in incredible joy and peace.


Way beyond closure. 

I even recited the Nicene Creed from long lost memory like on the day I was confirmed at St Margaret's Church. And I'm not what you might call a true believer. 

But when I heard the soft and soothing voice of Reverend Jennie Hogan, I realized for the first time that St Paul's was not Catholic, but the Church of England (Episcopalian), the church of my mother. And I knew that we were home at last.

And if you're still searching like me, then tell me why so much of our visits to faraway places involve checking out the amazingly stunning churches? 

Is it just the pretty architecture?

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