Plant a Seed in My Heart (28)

This room is so inviting.  Not a soul, lucky me. 
As I walk along the hallway, the altar is simply plain and a symbol of Christianity hangs on the wall.  Crucified Jesus Christ. 
Standing in front of the altar, on my left hidden from my view was a man.  Hmm, he must be the keeper of the house of the Lord. 
Moving away from him, I went to the left.  The left side of the altar, here she rests, the incorruptible body of Bernadette encased in a glass coffin.  And I took a photo of her.
St. Bernadette

St. Bernadette

 I was speechless and in awe.  She is so beautiful.  Singular beauty emanates from this lifeless body yet so tender that still speaks love.  Gradually, I could feel something surfaced out deep within me.  What are these feelings? Indescribable. One must experience it, the absolute love,  peace and gratitude. 
Time passed in quiet surrender.  I am no longer mad at Bernadette since the event at Lourdes.  Bernadette has forgiven me for disliking her and lead me here where she lays.  Here I am, Bernadette, I whispered. 
Bernadette has planted a seed in my heart.  The stories I share with you are just like seeds, words that are planted inside of me which has taken roots and keeps on growing towards the God of All Things.  These short stories of my pilgrim progress have no beginning, no ending. 
Reality set in, my stomach grumbled, time for supper and bid adieu to St. Bernadette. 
P.S.  That man, by the way, was the guard.  I was castigated for taking a picture of St. Bernadette. Mea Culpa. 
 

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