There is an angel outside my door; I am told it is the angel Gabriel. Maybe. It looks like the pictures of the Archangel Michael. Whoever it; it is good.
When I come to this land I am reminded of how much I am separated from as I go about my days. The richness of history is tangible in cultures where antiquity still exists. Here, the blending of traditions as generations upon generations have expressed their faith holds its own. San Simon has a spot by the cross with Jesus. Angels and Marias, saints and warriors guard the doorways. Is this Santiago? Joseph or Francis? I can’t ignore that much of this existed way before my world formed, even my faith tradition. I love believing in Jesus. And I wish, sometimes, that our history would be more tangible than a class in school too many years ago. Today my steps took me to places that rekindled memories of the Salisbury Close in England. Walking and listening. Resting and preparing. Hearing ghosts and voices of current day. Face time, Viber and oh yes….the cobblestone streets of ancient days. Be humble and walk lightly…others have come this way. Guards and angels…
If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”
and you make the Most High your dwelling,
no harm will overtake you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread on the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.
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So….where, exactly, are you?