I woke just now from this dream:
I was the leader of a group of people who went back to our recently abandoned Catholic grade school to salvage what we could before its demolition. All the long day we toiled, boxing up countless old treasures left behind by dedicated teachers and saintly old nuns and priests. Some of the boxes were very heavy with educational and religious antiques, along with many small treasures the nuns and priests left behind. We had to hurry and pack things as best we could, with no packing materials to pad and protect them.
Building after building, room after room: priceless old books, equipment, and memorabilia. We shared so many great memories and discussions together as we packed them. There were many hard choices about what to pack and what to leave behind.
I saw, in an old classroom, a large wooden crucifix was left on the wall. One of the ones our class would face each morning to say our morning prayer. I had always wanted one, so I took it off the wall and carefully put it in my purse so it wouldn’t roll around, disrespectfully, in a box. We saw old dormitory rooms of the nuns and even a closet full of intricately embroidered vestments for Mass. All left behind when the school had closed so suddenly.
It would soon be dark, and looters would be coming. We would have to leave and come back in the morning for what the looters didn’t steal or destroy. I needed to get the people out. We would be in danger. I gave the order for everyone to pick up a box they could carry and leave.
It was so hard to leave all the boxes full of unique old treasures behind. My heart wrenched as I walked past each abandoned box toward the gate, We were all scrambling to reunite and escape as dusk was falling. I felt so responsible for getting all the workers out... but also for what was being left for looters to destroy. I looked down and realized all I had taken was the crucifix. The enormity of this moment of crisis woke me.
......
Analysis: There’s lots I could say about the old school and religious symbols, childhood, passing on beliefs and traditions, and heart wrenching loss.
But all I want to say is that, stripped of everything else that I held so dear, all I brought out with me in that moment of choosing was the crucifix from my childhood. Jesus. The Cross.
I am full of joy and wonder.
And I think we will all somehow be okay.
Thank you.
I have a friend who rescued the wood of the altar that had been destroyed and has it in his garage.