02/12- Sacred Statue
A tale in 12 fragments - 01/12 – Two Up, Two Down.
02/12 – Sacred Statue
Towering over his childhood was a large statue of Jesus (with a capital J) enveloped in a glass dome.
Outstretched hands, faded paint, the mark of a good or at least devout family of believers. He never knew what his old dad thought of it, never asked him. In this house honesty was the best policy. In later years he recognised it as the classic alabaster sacred heart, after the catholic schooling had done its work. He was set up for the world of alter boys, communion wine the fantastic smell of extinguished votive candles and the corruption of the local SVdeP chapter.
He could recite the Our father, traverse the rosary like a Greek fisherman handling worry beads and share his confession through the screen to Fr Kirkpatrick, early every third Saturday morning.
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