I am very fond of this creamy white building on Fleming Street at William.
I know almost nothing about it except it is also known to some as the four door church owing to a previous design. It was knocked down by a hurricane at the beginning of the 20th century and was rebuilt in this fortress style.
It is quite the landmark.
And -praise the Lord!- the doors were open.
I hitched my dog to a convenient down pipe and went for a wander and meditation.
"...to prosper, increase and have good success." A vision statement for a church that includes those thoughts brings a smile to the lips of an unbeliever like me.
There may only be one God, they tell us but s/he goes by many different names.
It was decidedly pleasant to sit indoors in the peace and quiet of this refuge, no sounds from outside on a sleepy Fall afternoon.
For some reason the church was absolutely littered with little boxes of paper handkerchiefs.
Happily the used ones were nowhere to be seen. These are the Stations of the Cross, entirely familiar to a lapsed Catholic as myself.
The air conditioning was cranking away most delightfully, though I did feel a pang for the heathen Cheyenne sitting on the sidewalk (in the shade) outside.
I never did understand why God's other creatures weren't welcome into His home. Note the handkerchief box in the picture below. Those things were everywhere.
A ten minute pause and it was time to get back out into the blazing afternoon heat outside.
Dog Is My Co-Pilot.
The pause that refreshes.
An entirely enjoyable and unexpected stop at Fort Zinderneuf.
I know almost nothing about it except it is also known to some as the four door church owing to a previous design. It was knocked down by a hurricane at the beginning of the 20th century and was rebuilt in this fortress style. 
And -praise the Lord!- the doors were open. 
I hitched my dog to a convenient down pipe and went for a wander and meditation.
It was decidedly pleasant to sit indoors in the peace and quiet of this refuge, no sounds from outside on a sleepy Fall afternoon.
For some reason the church was absolutely littered with little boxes of paper handkerchiefs. 
The air conditioning was cranking away most delightfully, though I did feel a pang for the heathen Cheyenne sitting on the sidewalk (in the shade) outside. 
I never did understand why God's other creatures weren't welcome into His home. Note the handkerchief box in the picture below. Those things were everywhere.
Dog Is My Co-Pilot. 
The pause that refreshes. 
An entirely enjoyable and unexpected stop at Fort Zinderneuf.
8 comments:
Interesting. I can't recall seeing this building, yet think I would. Looks to be nondenominational, or interdenominational, like a Unitarian church maybe . . . Somewhere in America there's a church for dogs, I'm sure. May even be dog missionaries for all I know. Some great photos.
Thanks for taking me in to the building that I often wondered what it looked like on the inside.
Dog is my co-pilot? Very nice play on words Conch...
Here in Dog's country, er, excuse me, God's country, you would be in so much trouble! LOL!
Maybe I should forward this post to the 700 Club. They could talk about that all day long.
I often wondered what it was like inside...the open doors were irrestible. I expect to be in the area at the end of the month for the local's parade before Fantasy Fest.
Dear Jim, I know my limitations and my sense of ironic disbelief masked as a sense of humor bars me from residence in 90 percent of this fair land.
Plus i was educated by benedictines so I have, embarrasingly enough, a working knwoledge of the New Testament so before they burn me at the stake I shall fire off a few zingers at my blasphemy trial after November 2nd.
Dude, if they put you on trial, then I would be honored to defend you. There are plenty of us out there with similar doubts. I never could understand how people can be so certain about things which are and for evermore should remain a mystery. The mystic in me thinks having some uncertainty about the divine in the world is even that much more fascinating.
I passed two churches in the past two weeks that had some kind of pet blessing ceremony here in downtown Denver. Apparently Key West has not yet caught on to this new craze of nabbing parishioners by all means necessary.
Dear Conschscooter:
I was educated by Jesuits. I have no doubts. And had it been a Catholic church Conchscooter wandered into, the lightning strike would have been genuinely impressive.
You must have been an awful child to be consigned to the Benedictines. And yet, the punishment must fit the crime.
Jesus like dogs, and had them wander the streets to lick the sores of the destitute. He knew that nothing gives comfort like the solicitous attention of a dog. He thought about cats too... And designed hell appropriately.
I shall pray tonight that no harm befalls my friend Michael Beattie, the heretic, who temps fate by riding all the way up here on the British version of the Ural.
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
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