It was our first morning in Paris. We had slept until 11:00 a.m., overcome with exhaustion and jet lag. We were staying in a rented apartment in Montmartre, a beautiful neighborhood just outside the heart of the city. We were only ten minutes away from Sacre Coeur, a beautiful cathedral built on the city's highest point. It was to be the first name we crossed off on our long list of places we wanted to see while we were in Paris.
We climbed flight after flight of stairs to the stunning white onion domed cathedral. The city was spread out below us, and my eyes craved to see some of the sights I had seen pictures of my whole life. Was that Notre Dame, or was it that one, that church with the two towers? Where is the Eiffel Tower? I saw neither Notre Dame or the Eiffel Tower at this point, but it didn't really matter anymore. Along with a slowly moving mass of people, I had climbed even more stairs to the entrance of Sacre Coeur. An official looking man in a dark suit demanded silence inside, but it was not a difficult order to obey, as the interior of Sacre Coeur was so breathtakingly beautiful.
Kevin and I sat in a pew enjoying the beauty of the cathedral's dome and thumbing through our already indispensable Rick Steve's travel guide. The central figure of Sacre Coeur's beautifully painted dome is Jesus, revealing his sacred heart or sacre coeur to the world. On one side of Jesus are prominent Biblical figures. On the other side are famous figures from France's history. Above Jesus is the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove, and still above the dove but much more distant from the likenesses of men is the artist's rendition of God.
Kevin and I rose from our pew and circled the cathedral's nave. Like in most cathedrals, there were small, lovely chapels here and there along the exterior walls. There were areas where one could light a candle in memory of a loved one, and there were statues of various saints. The lit candles suddenly reminded me of a forgotten memory of our honeymoon five years earlier. We were on the Hawaiian island of Kauai, and we were scheduled to take a helicopter ride so that we could better view the gorgeous scenery. I was terrified of riding on a helicopter but had agreed to go since Kevin really wanted us to do it, and I knew it would be a wonderful experience if I could get past my fear. We stopped at a small little church on our way to the helicopter ride. No one was in the church besides us, and Kevin lit a candle in memory of his mother. I signed the visitor's book there and wondered if it would be the last time I signed my name. I was really nervous about getting on this helicopter.
We were just about to leave Sacre Coeur when I remembered a detail in Rick Steve's travel guide that had made me curious. The travel guide had said to rub the statue of St. Peter's foot and gaze up to the heavens. I wondered what would happen if I did this. Was there some sort of skylight? We circled around the nave again looking for the statue of St. Peter. He wasn't too difficult to find. The statue's foot was worn from the thousands and thousands who had performed this ritual. I rubbed St. Peter's smooth bronze foot and looked up. Much to my astonishment and delight I was staring straight into the eyes of Jesus. The statue is positioned at the exact spot in the great cathedral where if you happen to look up, you are staring into the eyes of the dome's painting of Jesus.
I suddenly felt such a feeling of complete peacefulness wash over me. I gazed upward into the eyes of the painting and said a short prayer thanking Jesus for a safe journey to France and asking Him to take us safely home to our little boy when our vacation was over. I felt as though I was so important to Jesus and that He was so attentively listening to me. I wished that prayer was always like this for me. For the next four days at least, my jitters about flying were over. I was able to enjoy our trip. Whenever I feel afraid or alone in future, I hope that I remember what happens at Sacre Coeur when you rub St. Peter's foot and gaze up into the heavens.
