Ice covers everything today. The grass, the air, the trees, all of it is frozen and tinged blue. Powdery snow crunches under me, my breath a vapor as I cross the campus full of brick buildings and now-bare hickory trees to my first day of work as a library aide as a college freshman, a dream come true. Although I am looking forward it, my soul is downcast. Where are you, Lord? I wonder.

My icon story started in 1970 on the island of Mykonos, Greece, when my husband and I were on our honeymoon. We were strolling through a maze of narrow cobblestoned lanes lined with whitewashed churches, outdoor cafes, and shops.  We spied it!  There was a triptych (three-paneled)  icon in a shop window. The brilliant gold background almost seemed to glow in the sunlight.  We entered the shop to have a look. On closer inspection, we saw that this icon was very different from the many other icons appearing in the shops of Athens.  Something about this icon called out to us. 

Sensitive content: Please be aware that this story contains themes of miscarriage and loss. 

I wasn’t Orthodox yet when this happened. I’d retired after years of teaching and school leadership, spending quiet time contemplating my next step and discerning a call from God, unsure what that would mean and what it would look like. I visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art one afternoon with my adult son to see the exhibition Byzantium: Faith and Power. I wanted to see the beautiful material culture of Eastern Christianity, more for the art than for any spiritual awakening.