Easter Week II

Well, I fell behind not only in my Bible blogging, but even in my vacation blogging. So, a quick recap of the remainder of our week with my daughter in Paris. It was unseasonably cold the entire time. Apparently, it is the coldest winter and early spring since they began recording the weather in Paris. We were underdressed and cold the entire time. But that was the only downside. Thanks to my wife, an excellent researcher and planner, we had amazing meals throughout our stay. We visited the cathedral at Chartres, which was dark and frigid, but beautiful. How in the world did Catholics attend Mass during winter in these unheated stone cathedrals? We revisited Louvre and Orsay (we had hit them hard several years ago), and also stopped in to some smaller museums that were amazing. A particular highlight was the Gustav Moreau museum. I do think God was sending me a message, as the paintings that struck me over and over again were those that presented the supper at Emmaus. In particular, multiple versions by Rembrandt (very nearly, but not quite, my favorite painter). Again and again I found myself turning over these words in my mind:

Were not our hearts burning inside us as he talked to us on the road and explained the Scriptures to us? 

Simply standing in front of some of these paintings, my heart did burn inside me.

My heart also burned inside me during our day trip to Normandy. Being on Omaha Beach, where so many men lost their lives fighting to reclaim freedom, was awe inspiring and unsettling. I find myself conflicted because I feel a sense of pride and gratitude about their bravery and sacrifice--and yet at the same time I am horrified by the senselessness and inhumanity of war. I am not sure how I "should" feel. We visited the American cemetery at Normandy, where more than 9,000 Americans are buried, and some 1,500 more are honored, but whose remains could not be matched to names. We happened to be there for the playing of taps and the taking down of the flag that day. We were asked to assist the cemetery employees with this ceremony, removing the flag from the pole and folding it into the triangle shape in which it is stored. This was a particularly moving moment for my wife and me, as we lost our nephew in Iraq almost seven years ago--a proud Marine named Michael, who is in heaven now.