Emma Robbins: Remembrance

        I have great love for stone. I love the way it smells, the way shoes clack against its smooth surface, the way it freezes hands on touch, the way that it allows years of feet and knees to make their uneven marks.

 

This trip has only augmented my affection. It seems that every other day, there’s a new cathedral, church, or ruin to explore, each one tied to the next by the great grit of its walls. Just last week, we visited Bath, to visit the Roman baths (ha). Racing out of the bus, we tripped over the bumpy cobblestone roads, happy to feel our feet hit the ground after so many hours sitting. Once we entered the baths, the powerful smell of rock and running water kept me on cloud nine the entire way through. The hot spring is still running, after nearly 3,000 years, still spilling over the same stones. The image of steaming water over rusty-red rocks communicates ancient to me in a particularly powerful way. 

 

Just two days ago, we arrived in London, and this city has made exploring my stone obsession easy. With an endless supply of marble museums (Matisse at the Tate!), gorgeous churches around every corner, enough rain to keep that wet cement smell in the air...it’s just about perfect. Today, I had the pleasure of attending a Remembrance Day service at St Luke’s, just a couple miles from our home base. The congregation sang together and prayed together, and the voices reverberated and echoed throughout the space. The walls were listening. The vicar spoke on remembrance, how this day concerns past, present, and future, and how we can remember all three. We hold memories of those we have lost, so that we might learn how to act today, for the grace and peace we hope for in our future. As we prayed for those killed as a result of war, I was struck by how stone remembers. How it holds centuries of prayers, laments and songs in its ancient face. I believe that stone listens, and holds our stories gently and quietly as a silent wall, floor, or step, so that we become a part of the space around us.

 

As I get to know this beautiful city, I’m keeping close attention to the walls, roads, and stairs. I want to notice what they’ve felt, see the subtle indents and uneven ridges, feel with my own hands years of human presence. And maybe the stone will remember me, too.