Molinaseca

Entering Molinoseca, I see a man plastering the arch of the main entrance of a small church. Hola! Buen Camino! Peregrino! Aqui! Aqui! He motions me over, walks me into the church and opens up the door….runs back to the side room and flips on the light. Me llamo es Antonio. Yo soy El trabador de iglesia. I am the church workman. Donde es? Seattle! Donde? Washington! Ah, Americano! The light comes on and I am in tears. The church doesn’t look like much from the outside, but it sure is special inside!Read more