There is something sacred to me about good art. A film can be a homily. A stroll through a bookstore can be a prayer labyrinth. Walking the halls of an art gallery can be like flipping through a hymnal.
This last weekend, EA and I went down to Savannah so that she could attend QuiltCon (No, you do not cosplay as your favorite at QuiltCon. I thought about that too. Although my favorite quilter is my wife, so…let’s not venture any further down that train of thought’s track). I do not know exactly when I got the sense of sacred walking through the many quilts that were on display, but at some point I got the feeling that there was something good and beautiful.