I step inside St Peters Basilica . . . . . speechlessness. . . . . . !
Each transcendent marble letter was 3 metres in length. From the ground they look like an inch.
Today’s miracle, The Holy Spirit has me completely transfixed, whilst everyone else appears oblivious, I can’t draw my eyes away. It flies towards me in eternal flight, without ever seemingly passing me. Nobody else seems to notice. Even my camera will not bear witness to what my eyes are seeing.
We celebrate morning Mass beneath the ground. The intimate chapel looks over St Peters tomb. Peter whom Jesus chose. We are at the very centre of Christendom. The kingdom is close at hand.
At this point in the pilgrimage everything becomes overwhelming. It is painfully awkward. I have no tissues, I wish I could remember to use my hair.
We inhale the staggering monumental Glory.
As we leave, everyone marches past a homeless lady with her small child, their hands are outstretched begging. One of the women in our group passes a comment about how they think “begging in today’s age in not acceptable, the woman should be reported to the services for what she is doing to her child”. I turn away from such blood-curdling ignorance.
I stare into the homeless womans darkest eyes and try to stare Love at her. I look at the baby and blow her a gentle kiss. She isn’t looking back at me.
It’s too much. I feel sick. I am overwhelmed.