The foundation of this collage lies in a set of pastel stations which I drew in 1995. My heart is drawn to the final steps of Christ's life and I continue to search for the most effective expression of those hours. In the year of 1999 I wrote meditations to accompany each of the 14 stations. My husband, an Episcopal Air Force Chaplain, uses them, in slide form, on Good Friday whenever he is in an appropriate chapel setting. The following is an excerpt from these meditations.

Crucifixion.
A word that no longer has meaning in our society.
Faded is the impact of the deed;
Gone the echoes of the hammer,
the rip of the flesh as the nail tears through it.

I live in an insulated world of anesthesia.
A cosmos of neatness.
Criminals die in small private rooms,
not in public places.

I don't witness the suffering of the guilty.
I lock them away from my eyes and ears.
I hear not the moans of the suffering.
I mute the sound on the television.
Voyeur of suffering,
not participant.

Can I comprehend the pain,
the slam of the hammer on the nail,
the flash of agony as the metal ripped your flesh,
the fire of the blood that flowed down your arm,
the shock of violence that reached your brain?

I am unprepared for such violence.
I have striven for a peaceful existence.
Violence is for criminals and war,
not for me in my world.

Lord, you suffered once for mankind,
yet I crucify you daily.
Weakness drives the nail,
untruth, disloyalty,
oversight, selfishness,
all drive the nails into your flesh.

Forgive me, Lord, my sin.
Hold me in your heart as I nail you to the tree.
Tears of remorse flood my soul.