I got a text telling me about it Friday morning and, unable to believe it, we turned on the TV. And saw this:
We drove by later that day and stared at the charred red brick, the yawning space where the roof over the chapel used to be, the lines of police tape criss-crossing the debris-scattered lawn.
It made my heart hurt to imagine tongues of fire consuming the beautiful paintings of the Savior, the font where I was baptized, the nursery where Brown-Eyed Boy plays, the chapel. This church has a place in some of my very first memories. But I didn't realize I was so attached to it until I saw it standing in ruins.
The amazing thing about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints? It moves forward. A burned-down church is an inconvenience, but nothing more. The Gospel of Jesus Christ cannot be reduced to ash and brick. It will continue to roll forth throughout the world, the stone cut without hands that cannot be destroyed.
Because it's true.
The Brown-Eyed Girl