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This is the last stop along our walking tour of the campus. We’re cold and tired from crisscrossing the many paths worn by the millions who’ve walked this way before us. I sit on the concrete walk and look up at the mural. Notre Dame must really be devoted to its faith, its belief in God, Mary, Jesus. This mural is just a bunch of stones in a pattern—shades of yellow, brown, white, gray, rust, black. Still, I feel something, someone breathing down on me, cutting through the bite in the air. Silently, I take Marsha by the hand, and we walk back to the Morris Inn. Somewhere over my shoulder, the larger-than-life Jesus with his arms raised blesses the world, blesses us.
18Traditional Irish Blessing. |
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© 2009 Cheryl A. Hemmerle |
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