city streets and saints.

What can I say about Washington, D.C.?  It is a beautiful, clean, well-organized city that reminded me a bit of my visit to Brussels three years ago.  The District hides its blemishes and "undesirables" very well.  They are there, believe me, but the poverty and helplessness are hidden behind a façade of order, history, and majesty.  I arrived on Thursday night on a rolling cloud of thunder.  The winds were so violent I actually thought that I might get swept away in a tornado.  Power lines were down, torrents of rain crashed down onto the earth, and I witnessed a tree falling down onto a car ahead of me on the highway - what a welcoming!

Other than registration and a few brief meetings, I was able to spend most of my first two days in D.C. soaking up the city.  I enjoyed a little walking tour of my own design, popped into the National Gallery and the Portrait Museum.  I love museums, but art museums most of all... they make me long for free time to sketch and take painting lessons.  In the National Gallery, one image held my attention and admiration longer than the rest: "The Baptism of Christ"by an artist known only as "the Master of the Saint Bartholomew Altar".  I was specifically drawn to a figure in the top left corner of the painting, adorned in a crown of gold and holding a bladed wheel.  This woman - anonymous to me at the time - captivated me, she just seemed so beautiful.  Part of the larger audience at the baptismal scene, she is not the focal point of the panel and she is not exceptional among other human figures in 15th century German art, but for some reason I found her fascinating.  She appeared gentle and elegant, kind and graceful.  Perhaps it was the alluring shimmer of light above her, perhaps she reminded me of the gentle, patient caregiver that I long to be, but for a brief moment she stole my heart.

Of course, everything is clearer in hindsight.  After doing a bit of research, I discovered that this woman was the image of Saint Katherine, my mother's namesake.  I do not hold much credence in the stories of saints but I always find them entertaining, and I would be a liar if I said I do not get a feeling of comforting, bittersweet warmth when anything reminds me of my mother.  It was a nice experience and I am sure I will hold onto it for quite some time.  I look forward to going to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston with Doug next week so that I can yet again be touched and melted by something lovely.