mosaic

Kevin, our current Zach, told me that I absolutely had to see the Cathedral Basilica before leaving St. Louis. He has been all over Europe and Rome and says that this church rivals anything he has seen anywhere.

It stands as the largest mosaic church in the world, housing 41.5 million glass pieces of over 700 different colors. And this project did not come in a kit you can buy at Michael's. Artists started laboring over it in 1912 and did not fit the last piece of glass into place until 1988.

Walking in, I was instantly dwarfed by the grandeur of the building, awed by the artistry.
I couldn't get over the master plan. Somebody knew how to put all these tiny pieces together to depict a story.

A beautiful story.

Somebody took the time, had the clairvoyance and patience to understand that with time, the separate pieces of glass could come together--no, would come together--to make a picture greater and more brilliant than if the glass had just been left alone.
I know there's a lesson there.
And that it goes beyond me.

It involves us.
It involves remembrance, sure, in the same way that the Catholics light a candle as a simplistic symbol of the way in which we make room in our hearts for each other. It's a bright burning flame, a prayer; a light, that no matter how flickering, still has the final say in the darkness.

But beyond remembrance, I think we are essential to each other.

I've always loved the idea of a mosaic. This sense of collage, of everything coming together to finally say something.

Of completion.

Somebody once told me that out of all the people in all the world--both past and present and those who are still to come--God hand picked my parents, my siblings, because he knew that somehow the mix of those particular people surrounding me would be exactly what I needed.

You know, to make the best me, so to speak.

And I agree.

Add to this mix Drew, my friends, my colleagues, my teachers--the people who have spoken into my life--they've all been an indispensable part of my mosaic.
But then there is even a bigger plan that that. Someone started a project with the first breath of life and the spark of creation and that picture is still getting put into place.

It involves all of us. And we are way more than 700 colors. And this is a greater labor of love even than the 62 years it took to finish the Basilica. So it will naturally take a bit longer than that.

But still, our mosaic is becoming clearer every day.

It's becoming beautiful.

And there is peace in knowing that we are the pieces that are getting fitted. Perfectly.

There is a faith that is needed to understand that this Artist does not make mistakes.

May we all see the mosaic, may we see it as beautiful and eternal.

But when we cannot see it in each moment, let us hold fast to a belief that it is still being hewn, and though the strikes to make it fit are painful, they are transient.

Leaving behind a picture of grace, of love, of a story that moves us.

A story in which each of us are nothing if not invaluable.