On a subsequent day I found myself holding hands or er' at least fingertips-to-a-hand with this handsome fellow. While the super glue dried my eyes studied him. Details of his long beard and fine clothing billow around him. But it seems as if none of his stature matters to this star-gazer. See how his eyes are not even on his shiny gift of gold (no wonder it could be broken off and possibly snatched away). Rather his sees only one thing before him.
Notice the focus, intensity and attention of his eyes upon the One he gazes. Forever fixed, yes, but adoringly so.
My confession is that I have never really been this close to royalty. Monarchies are not as popular nor prevalent as they used to be. Stories from across the pond describe how citizens of England are not even allowed to touch their royals. They must stand at a certain proper distance, for example.
So who am I for such an intimate thing as hand-holding in the church office with a king?
As this questions rolls around in my mind, the glue dries and all is whole again for this traveler from afar. My mundane fix-it task finished; I continue to ponder him longer.
How it is, I don't know, but I would risk telling you that this small ceramic representation of an ancient long dead man spoke to me that afternoon. We made a connection across the ages. I could swear that my ears heard echoed back to me my own words in his voice, "Who am I for such an intimate thing as gazing upon my newborn King?"
Who are we, indeed.
No comments:
Post a Comment