We used to live in Albuquerque. I regret that we never took an afternoon to drive up to Sante Fe which was only an hour away. Besides being a cultural adventure in itself, with artisans and foods, it is the home of the Loretto Chapel and the miraculous staircase.

 

My brother and sister-in-law traveled there, and enjoyed the rich details of its history. My brother used to build with our father in the basement. There was a work bench and a wall of hammers and drills. He and his wife were traveling out west for their son's wedding, the one who was named after his grandfather.

 

One hundred and forty years ago the amazing staircase was completed, solving the dilemma of access to the choir loft. The sisters who had looked for a carpenter were unable to find one who believed the task was even possible given the small space. They prayed for nine days, and in the last hours a carpenter arrived looking for work. He had only a few tools, but accepted the job. Some say his name was Jose. In a few months the staircase was finished, with two complete spirals, thirty three steps, and no visible means of support. There are no nails used, only wooden pegs, and the design astonishes carpenters even now, much more so given the limits of his day. Tradition also says that he left without being paid or thanked. Scientists are at a loss as to the type of wood, asserting that it was certainly not available in that region nor perhaps anywhere. The steps themselves create a kind of spring, which adds to the sense of loftiness when you ascend them. Or so they tell me. I missed my opportunity to find out. As it happens if you book the chapel for a wedding you get to have your picture taken on the stairs. 

 

It is precisely the kind of story I adore. Prayer leading to a humble possibility, which seems ordinary enough as it unfolds. Then looking back the circumstances convene to create just enough bounce to carry you upwards. You find yourself in a perspective you could not otherwise have access to. Thirty three is the number of years Jesus lived. Jose sounds a lot like Joseph. The absence of nails suggests to me a power greater than the very implements of Jesus' crucifixion. His disappearance reminds me of the time the women arrived to an empty tomb. The double spiral is indicative of the lifting up of our spirits, both before our death and after. 

 

It is true I never drove to Santa Fe. Didn't know the way, though there were maps back in 1986. But there has been an ascension of miracles in my life and probably yours, if only we believe they are possible. Times when I can see no visible proof of support. I just hope I remember to say thank you. Plus I have always wanted to be part of the choir. I will stand next to my dad who is a terrific bass.