Louvre

I walked into the Louvre, looked up at the ceiling, and cried.

So much beauty in one place.  It overwhelmed me.

Love of beauty is Taste.

The creation of beauty is Art.

--Ralph Waldo Emerson

 Venus de Milo

What's that big crowd doing there?

Just gazing at a mysterious woman.

People have been fascinated by her for years.  What is she thinking?  It is said that Napoleon was so captivated by her that he hung the painting in his bedroom in the Tuileries.  But, his wife became so jealous she made him remove it.  It was then under the bed until it was moved to the Louvre four years later.

I once heard a singles' pastor say to single men (and I wholeheartedly agree) that there is enough in one woman to captivate you for a lifetime and never arrive to full knowledge of her.  He likened it to how we will be someday when we are before the throne of God.  You know, of course, that we will say, "Holy, Holy, Holy" repeatedly--completely amazed.  This is because it will take God an eternity to reveal Himself to us.  New facets of God will just keep unfolding and we will never have time to recover from our wonderment before another one is revealed.  And so we just babble, "Holy, holy, holy, holy, holy....."

This is why marriage never has to get dull or boring.  If we keep gazing, we keep learning, we keep being surprised, and we are always left with a sense of wanting more.

That's the lesson from the Mona Lisa for all married people and those who plan to be someday.

"Holy, holy, holy, holy, holy, holy...."

That's us by the fountain in the courtyard of the Louvre.

In the middle of all that beauty, one's soul could just burst if once in a while you didn't let off a little silliness.

Help! He's fallen and he can't get up!

Tickle, tickle, tickle.

 Apparently they used to be holding up a giant basin.  Now it just looks like they are checking themselves out.

Throwing out the first pitch!

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLLLLL!!!!

The caption for these statues was probably, "Do I have to go get dressed Mom?!"

After the Louvre we went to the Orsay (which is home to the biggest collection of the Impressionists).  Again, I wept like a baby. 

Unfortunately, (or fortunately for those who must endure other people's vacation pictures) photos are not permitted in the Orsay.  So, here's a picture of me out front next to Van Gogh.