My daughter asked, "Is that your scarf, mom? Why have you put it there?" Why indeed. I wonder if she knows the unpure things that hang on that cross for me, the unspeakable secrets he has carried with him and laid to rest there. The things that shroud me still.
Looking up, or in, to Jesus on this day brings a quiet knowingness; peace that he sees me in my humanity; that in a crowd of a billion earth-inhabitants, he sees this one here, in this place, with this heart.