I was saddened to wake up this morning and hear that Notre Dame cathedral in Paris, France had been gutted by a fire.
The French people interviewed in the news story all referred to the cathedral as "she" and that fits my memories. She was a stately, reassuring presence. As with many buildings built long ago, I could tell from looking at her that she had many fascinating stories to tell.
Inside, there was that hushed silence that comes not just from being in a space dedicated to worship, but also from the essence of all the hopes, dreams, fears, and despairs of the people who have stepped inside her over the centuries. It's as if that essence had seeped into the very stones.
I look forward to some day visiting her in her newly rebuilt glory.
Here are a few photos I took on September 3, 1993.