So how is it that after living in this village for eighteen months that I never noticed the statue of Our Lady nestled in a little alcove above the door of one of the prettiest houses in the village? I have gazed at that house so many times, yet I just noticed Mary the other day. I have been thinking about her and this morning I thought of her as leading us toward the narrow path to Heaven. There are many ways to enter our village. The main one has recently been blocked off though, to allow for bridge repairs. So we must choose one of the smaller roads into the village. The most narrow one is the street with Our Lady's outstretched hands. "Come this way, my child," she seems to be saying.
Oh, that narrow road. I want to travel it. I know it is the right path, but oh, it is so hard sometimes. Just like that narrow road in our village, it is the most challenging to navigate. You cannot move quickly. You must go slowly. You must practice patience and charity and many other virtues while traveling on this road, or you may just find yourself blocked in with nowhere to turn. But it is also the most lovely and it leads us home on the straightest path. The paths of life and of Our Lord are not so different if you stop and think about it.
I took all these photos while on a walk to take a picture of the house. We were all grumpy in the classroom, tempers were short, and so I made everyone go with me. Grudgingly is the way I would describe my crew's accompaniment at first. But by the time we had made it down the hill and entered the main square of the village, attitudes had improved and we had a great time observing the little things.