Splendors

It's kind of hard to explain, why I wanted to see the Vatican Splendors exhibit at the Minnesota History Center. Of course I wanted to experience the art and the dazzling, ancient treasures. But this seemed personal somehow. Due in part, I'm sure, to having been raised Catholic. Whatever my experience with the church, whatever my current beliefs or spiritual practices, that will never leave me and I will always have immediate response to it on a soul level.

I tried several times to get to the exhibit. Minnesota January weather wasn't very cooperative. Unbelievably cold, snow, wind, more snow, more wind. But Mom (my ever-adventurous travel companion) and I finally found a weekend to head north to St. Paul and take in the splendor.

The art was magnificent, of course. The history sent me reeling: there I was, standing within two feet of tools that were handled by Michelangelo. I kept saying to Mom, "Here we are, standing within two feet of something Michelangelo touched." Finally, she said, "Yes, Amy. I know." And to think that this was just a sampling. Such riches.

Mom and I spent a good deal of time with our noses pressed to the glass cases holding the gorgeously embroidered and beaded and jeweled copes and robes. Mom's a wonderful seamstress and tried valiantly for years to teach me what came so naturally to her and Grandma. And, alas, failed. However, she did succeed at teaching me embroidery so I'm not completely disowned. Standing in front of Pope Pius IX's red robe, she said over and over, "Look at all those tiny stitches! Just look at them." And then I got to say, "Yes, Mom. I know." Hee hee.

But what stopped me in my tracks were two things: the robes Pope John Paul II wore later in his life, altered shorter in the front to accommodate his very human, stooping posture and the bronze cast of his hand, which attendees were encouraged to touch. Which I did, several times.

Which I think is exactly what he would have wanted.

Mom and I completed our girls' weekend with lots of good food, organic wine in our hotel room, a fairy tarot card reading (definitely NOT Catholic, but still fun), some shopping and so much laughter my neck hurt the next day.