Stained Glass Pilgrimage | St. Edward Church in Richard, LA

Searching for More

St. Edward's Parish is where I grew up. I made all my sacraments here until I was married. At which point I then belonged, and still worship with my family, at that parish. I don't come here often anymore, but part of me still considers it "home". 

I do feel most at home when I am alone in this church. Throughout my troubled college years, volunteering in ministry, and discerning my vocation, I'd come here to cry in the dark with the spotlight on the cross. Either kneeling in a close pew or, when I was desperate, on that rug behind the altar, looking directly up at the feet of Jesus. I remember the way Christ's gaze looked from that angle. Sometimes accusing. And within seconds, it seemed to shift to pity. But I remember, as I was feeling small and far away from Him all the way beneath his feet, it's like He was asking, “What are you willing to do to come up here to me?”

Distracted by Curiosity

It's been a long time since those lost days. But the comfort of this place hasn't changed. I

started off my search of the Pilgrimage Guide's featured stained glass by reviewing the apostles depicted in each window along the side walls. There are 12 windows, but one of them is St. Paul. Which means that one of the 12 apostles is missing. Naturally, that investigation (or distraction) took priority. 

I figured it out ...with a little help from Google. But I won't ruin the fun for you if you decide to check it out yourself. It's a worthwhile addition to your visit. I know I learned a thing or two about identifying them by the symbols they are represented with. (Otherwise, honestly, they just look like a general variety of old men. Sorry.)

Above these pictures of the apostles are more stained glass of Bible stories, concisely depicted in very straightforward, minimal images.  On the left is the Old Testament. The New Testament on the right. These are telling by the Chi Rho representing Christ's presence in those events. Among them is our Pilgrimage piece: the loaves and fish. 

Inviting the Lord into the Silence

I sat in the pew next to this window and, for the first time since entering the church, put my busy, investigative thinking aside, and attempted to invite the Lord to direct my thoughts. 

I thought back to an article I read almost a year ago that was very impactful. It was a reflection on the miracle of the loaves and fish, highlighting Christ's response to his anxious disciples about the hungry crowd: "They need not go away; YOU give them something to eat." (Matthew 14:16)

Before Christ fed the 5000, He prompted the disciples to look to what they had to offer of themselves. This does two things (as I can remember from the article): 1.) It calls us to consider our part in service rather than prematurely accepting defeat and putting it on someone else to take responsibility. We must weigh what we must surrender rather than avoiding it. 2.) It teaches us that Christ requires an offering from us in order to fulfill His work. Not that He can't, but more for our own sake, to stretch us beyond the limits of our flesh to what we were made for, which is a real, working relationship with God. In His great love for us, he doesn't want to just do for us, but he wants to be with us. Wasn't this story a foreshadowing of the Eucharist anyway? The ultimate sign of His desire to remain with us and work through us. 

When I first read and reflected on this, I was discerning a job change. I was excited but overwhelmed and anxious about choosing the "right" thing or correctly interpreting the direction the Lord wanted me to go.  A year later, I can look back at how that all played out and see the ways He was providing for me, multiplying things I thought could never be enough. When I thought He was asking me to say “yes” to doing or providing, He showed me that He was only asking for my cooperation. Time and again, through the path I've chosen, I have had to practice trust by following Him well past the boundaries of my comfort and ability so He can show me that He can do more (He can do it all!) when I give Him myself and not my plans. 

So I asked again this time, ready to see what was next, "What are you asking of me now?" What else is He trying to multiply and disperse from me? The journey of the last year has been a whirlwind, and things have shifted again, so there must be a new calling I need to open myself to. But I sensed I was getting ahead of myself. 

I thought I did, or gave, what He asked of me and that part had concluded. But it wasn't about moving on to the next mission or the next level of God's plan for me. There was more to be done in building that relationship with Him. The things He presents me with are not ends in themselves, but a means to grow in trust and surrender. 

When I asked instead, "What is left?", the response was, "Have you actually eaten of the bread I offered you?" 

Multiplying My Loaves and Fish 

Even as I was surrendering in bolder ways than I have before, recognizing His presence and power anew, I'm still finding myself struggling daily with unhappiness, frustration, overwhelm… Signs that I have not given everything. Or perhaps that I have not yet made room to receive for myself. I've been collecting my measly loaves and fish, seeing the Lord stretch them, dispersing them to the hungry crowd …serving the feast but not actually taking part. A classic Martha move. Inviting the Lord into my home, but not sitting at His feet like Mary. 

I concluded that time in prayer in a hurry to get back home. But on the way out, I passed the

statue of the Sacred Heart. Jesus' posture, with His hands outstretched and a soft look on His face, was like both an offering of encouragement and an invitation to accept an embrace. So I walked up closer to touch Him. His feet were at eye level and the only thing within reach. I teared up as I put my hand there, thinking of Mary washing His feet with her tears, understanding the humility and the honor in that position. The service and the repletion. The meaning and the magnitude of that intimacy with Christ. 

As I got back into my car, the audio picked up on the new book I was about to begin. It was like life went back to where it left off after that brief pause for prayer. The book is in no way labeled with a Christian theme, but the first words of the book reminded me that I didn't leave Christ behind me in the church, nor did that time with Him have an end. It is ever a continuation. 

The first lines of "Ruth" by Elizabeth Gaskell are a poem that reads:

"Drop, drop, slow tears, 

and bathe those beauteous feet,

which brought from heaven 

the news and Prince of Peace.

Cease not, wet eyes, 

his mercies to entreat;

to cry for vengeance 

sin doth never cease.

In your deep floods 

drown all my faults and fears;

nor let his eye see sin, 

but through my tears."

- Phineas Fletcher "An Hymn"

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Kassie Darbonne is a full-time mom of soon-to-be 4 under 4. With a background in the arts, she keeps creativity alive by orchestrating kid crafts and meals on a budget, developing her church bulletin and media, and a recent undertaking of iconography. Kassie is most passionate about building community and open communication. Her aim is to offer transparency about her own struggles, joys, and observations to develop trust so we can pursue the path of holiness honestly and together. 

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