The abandoned church sat alone off the the highway, surrounded by old graves and piñon trees. We walked quietly around the church yard, reading the tombstones. As I peered into one weathered and scarred old window, I was struck by the scenery reflected behind me with my fuzzy image in front. The glass had seen a lot of years and was chipped and blurred with age.
“Can I see your picture?” My four-year-old friend Braelynn looked up at me with a puzzled expression as I handed her my phone. For a long time she studied the photo. Then her little eyebrows arched and skeptical black eyes studied me intently. “Why did you take the picture in the window?”
“Well… I liked the reflection of the grass and sky behind us through the old glass.”
Now her eyebrows drew together to form a small frown. “But Jeannie, just turn around and you can look at it behind you,” she explained patiently, like a parent teaching a child.
I searched for a reply, how to explain. “I like to see things from another view point. The glass in the old window pane tells me a story. It’s how the old church’s eyes see the world…. sort of…” Pretty lame answer, I thought.
She was quiet as she studied my photo thoughtfully, before turning around to study the view behind us.
Later I saw her sitting beside a child’s grave, gently stroking the hand of a small angel statue. Watching her, I wished I could see through the eyes of a small child.
