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Authors: Linda Barlow
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the aftermath of Charlie’s death and the loss of Fabrications. Early one morning, unable to sleep and
feeling as if she was losing her mind, she had gotten up from her lonely bed and wandered the hilly streets of downtown San
Francisco. She’d climbed Nob Hill and, panting from exertion, seen the gray stone of Grace Cathedral, an Episcopal church.
She’d entered the huge old building, finding it nearly empty and very dark, the morning sunlight just beginning to brighten
the magnificent stained glass. She’d sat in one of the pews at the back and tried to pray. But Charlie’s death remained a
bitter taste in the back of her throat, and she felt abandoned by God.
Barbara Rae Acker had sat down behind her, and later, when Annie rose, weeping, to stagger out of the beautiful Gothic church
that, for her, was empty of the presence of God, Barbara Rae touched her shoulder gently and stopped her. “Before you leave,”
she said, “there’s something I want you to try.”
Annie looked into her face and thought that if God
did
exist, He was looking out at the world through the wise, kind eyes of this tall, plain woman with kinky gray hair and thick,
work-calloused hands. All the compassion in the world was contained in those chocolate-brown eyes; it shone through her like
a beacon.
“Try what?” Annie asked.
Barbara Rae pointed to the floor on which they were standing. On it was a pattern, a massive circular design consisting of
a large number of broken concentric circles. “The labyrinth,” she said. “It’s a reproduction of a similar ancient design in
the floor of the cathedral at Chartres. It’s a walking meditation. You simply enter the maze there, at the beginning, and
follow the circular paths back and forth, around and around, until eventually you arrive at the center. It’s not really a
maze, since there are no false trails. Once you start, you will always find your way.”
“Why?” Annie asked halfheartedly, wanting only to leave and lacking the faith for any serious attempt at meditation.
“Try it,” Barbara Rae said gently but insistently, so Annie did.
Later, Annie had tried to understand what had happened that morning—why Barbara Rae had managed to reach her when God could
not. Part of it was simply the serenity of the walking meditation. As she’d walked the narrow pathways on the floor, she’d
felt a sense of connection with all the generations of people who had walked there before her, both in San Francisco and in
Chartres where the labyrinth had originated.
And Barbara Rae was right in that the maze appeared to be complex and full of mysterious twists and turns and deadends, but once you began walking, you saw that there was only one true path, and that it led, without fail, to the heart.
When she reached the center, Annie felt lighter somehow, as if her burdens had been lifted from her shoulders. She didn’t
see Barbara Rae when her journey was over, but when she left the church, the woman was waiting for her in the garden outside.
“I come here often, although it’s not my church,” Barbara Rae explained. “God can be found in many places.”
Impulsively, Annie had hugged her, and they’d exchanged addresses and phone numbers. It was the beginning of a friendship
that had become central to Annie’s life.
“It’s going to be a fine cathedral, isn’t it?” Barbara Rae said now, as they looked out the window of the youth center toward
the towering building that had taken shape next door.
“It surely is,” Annie said.
“A living symbol of heaven’s beauty and our human striving toward the divine. Beauty touches us all; even those with the hardest
of hearts can be moved by beauty.”
Annie smiled. “No one has a hard heart around you, Barbara Rae. It’s just not possible.”
“There is some darkness in every heart,” the minister replied. “Some of us are more resistant to it, so the evil remains nothing
more than an
feeling as if she was losing her mind, she had gotten up from her lonely bed and wandered the hilly streets of downtown San
Francisco. She’d climbed Nob Hill and, panting from exertion, seen the gray stone of Grace Cathedral, an Episcopal church.
She’d entered the huge old building, finding it nearly empty and very dark, the morning sunlight just beginning to brighten
the magnificent stained glass. She’d sat in one of the pews at the back and tried to pray. But Charlie’s death remained a
bitter taste in the back of her throat, and she felt abandoned by God.
Barbara Rae Acker had sat down behind her, and later, when Annie rose, weeping, to stagger out of the beautiful Gothic church
that, for her, was empty of the presence of God, Barbara Rae touched her shoulder gently and stopped her. “Before you leave,”
she said, “there’s something I want you to try.”
Annie looked into her face and thought that if God
did
exist, He was looking out at the world through the wise, kind eyes of this tall, plain woman with kinky gray hair and thick,
work-calloused hands. All the compassion in the world was contained in those chocolate-brown eyes; it shone through her like
a beacon.
“Try what?” Annie asked.
Barbara Rae pointed to the floor on which they were standing. On it was a pattern, a massive circular design consisting of
a large number of broken concentric circles. “The labyrinth,” she said. “It’s a reproduction of a similar ancient design in
the floor of the cathedral at Chartres. It’s a walking meditation. You simply enter the maze there, at the beginning, and
follow the circular paths back and forth, around and around, until eventually you arrive at the center. It’s not really a
maze, since there are no false trails. Once you start, you will always find your way.”
“Why?” Annie asked halfheartedly, wanting only to leave and lacking the faith for any serious attempt at meditation.
“Try it,” Barbara Rae said gently but insistently, so Annie did.
Later, Annie had tried to understand what had happened that morning—why Barbara Rae had managed to reach her when God could
not. Part of it was simply the serenity of the walking meditation. As she’d walked the narrow pathways on the floor, she’d
felt a sense of connection with all the generations of people who had walked there before her, both in San Francisco and in
Chartres where the labyrinth had originated.
And Barbara Rae was right in that the maze appeared to be complex and full of mysterious twists and turns and deadends, but once you began walking, you saw that there was only one true path, and that it led, without fail, to the heart.
When she reached the center, Annie felt lighter somehow, as if her burdens had been lifted from her shoulders. She didn’t
see Barbara Rae when her journey was over, but when she left the church, the woman was waiting for her in the garden outside.
“I come here often, although it’s not my church,” Barbara Rae explained. “God can be found in many places.”
Impulsively, Annie had hugged her, and they’d exchanged addresses and phone numbers. It was the beginning of a friendship
that had become central to Annie’s life.
“It’s going to be a fine cathedral, isn’t it?” Barbara Rae said now, as they looked out the window of the youth center toward
the towering building that had taken shape next door.
“It surely is,” Annie said.
“A living symbol of heaven’s beauty and our human striving toward the divine. Beauty touches us all; even those with the hardest
of hearts can be moved by beauty.”
Annie smiled. “No one has a hard heart around you, Barbara Rae. It’s just not possible.”
“There is some darkness in every heart,” the minister replied. “Some of us are more resistant to it, so the evil remains nothing
more than an
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