3 Quarters Today

My Life, my photography, my passions

Travel Adventures

Significance of Red Doors in a Church

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I didn’t know of the significance of red doors on churches  until I read, Finally A Red Door, on another  Project 365 blog.  Although this door is of a Catholic church in Connecticut the symbolism of a red door in churches spans many denominations. It is definitely a more popular tradition in older churches.

Catholic Church in Connecticut

According to Dr. Richard C Hoefler, dean of Christ Chapel at Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary, “Christians have entered into worship, into the presence of God, through the blood of Christ.” It is also said that a red door in the Lutheran Church harkens back to the time of Martin Luther, who posted his 95 Theses on the red doors of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany—the crimson color symbolizes the church as part of the Reformation. (Pastor Kuhlman, can you confirm?)

On the website St. David’s Episcopal Church  in Laurinburg, NC it explains: “Red Front Doors. The red doors symbolize the blood of Christ, which is our entry into salvation. They also remind us of the blood of the martyrs, the seeds of the church.”

Historically a church has been a place of sanctuary, a place where a soldier could not pursue an enemy, much like when one takes refuge in  Christ the enemy, the devil and evil,  cannot pursue and destroy you. Thank you Bonnie for bringing this little known history to my attention.

By the way, this door is at St. Francis Assisi in South Windsor Connecticut.

I am now on a quest for other Red Doors around the country, here is one in Nebraska City at an Episcopal Church

Symbolism in Churches

If you are interested in learning more about symbolism in churches and the meaning of certain design elements in architecture of a various churches the books below are full of interesting information of Christian symbolism.

The Secret Language of Churches & Cathedrals: Decoding the Sacred Symbolism of Christianity’s Holy BuildingsHow to Read a Church: A Guide to Symbols and Images in Churches and CathedralsSymbols of the Church


Day 48/365: Random Act of Kindness

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Day 48: Random Act of Kindness

Sometimes it’s a random act of kindness from a stranger touches you in a way that is indescribable and affirms the belief that yes, God is listening, someone cares, and here is a small message that you are being taken care of and loved. In this instance it was a simple validation ticket from a parking garage and a perceptive, compassionate gate attendant that gave this glimpse of grace.

At a little before midnight I gave the parking attendant at Hartford Hospital my ticket. He must of seen something in my face, shock, stunned incomprehension, numbness, or a vacant look because he asked what floor I had been visiting. I numbly responded “Neuro Intensive Care.”

What he did then I almost didn’t understand. He handed be back the ticket, told me to fold it up, forget about it, and be careful driving home. I looked at him and a shiver went through my body, my eyes welled up, and I said thank you. I took a deep breathe, probably the first of the evening and carefully pulled out of the garage.

Day 44/365: Colonial Home

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Day 44: Colonial Home

One of my fondest memories of my teen years was historic old Main Street in South Windsor. I would ride by bike from East Hartford every Saturday morning into the country to look at horses. I was just a little horse crazy as a 13 year old girl and knew where every horse lived on my four mile “route”.  People were more than friendly and let me pet and feed them carrots. This weekly ritual lasted many years and resulted in many friendships that have lasted over thirty years.

One of the families on my route took pity on me and convinced their son to let me ride their horse and eventually give me lessons. I got involved in the Scantic Valley Riders 4-H Club, and showed small sorrel quarter horse, Wimpy’s Kelley at the Hartford County 4-H Fair and the Wapping Fair in the late 1970’s.  She was the first horse I rode on a regular basis and lived over thirty years.

When I moved from New England I began to appreciate the history of the area and homes I took for granted that were built in the 1700’s were suddenly interesting. It’s part of the charm of the area that you can’t get anywhere else in the country. Homes built during the birth of our nation, historic homes still standing, like the one in the picture above that stands proudly under a blanket of snow.

 

Day 43/365: New England Blizzard

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Day 43: Snowy Red Barn, Ellington, CT

Winter storm Benedict brought a record snowfall to the State of Connecticut. I was lucky to be there when I was to remember great snows of my childhood which brought back memories of snow forts, snowball fights, and sledding at Wickham Park.

New England snow is different than Nebraska snow. It is softer, gentler, and quiet. Even though Benedict was officially called a blizzard. Compared to Nebraska storms, Benedict was a whisper.

I spent several hours shoveling snow in the driveway, and enjoyed it. There wasn’t a 50 mph wind cutting through me, and the temperature was almost a balmy 27 degrees with a slight breeze of maybe 10-15 mph. A vast difference from most shoveling conditions in Nebraska when the temperature is in the teens with 50 mph winds.

Bowing to my middle aged years I took several breaks, took pictures of the birds in the backyard, and just let memories linger. As I entered the “plow ridge” at the bottom of the driveway I paused.

Here was another difference. In Nebraska the street plows wait until the snow stops before getting to the residential areas. If a plow had come by my Mom’s once, they came by at least a dozen times pushing and packing snow at the bottom of the driveway. The streets looked good and passable, if you could get out.

As I paused to start the heavy lifting a pickup with a blade drove by, I glanced and nodded. He stopped, asked if I would like the bottom pushed out, and I smiled and gave the thumbs up. In less than two minutes the bottom was clear. Turns out, he was the son of a neighbor two houses down and 45 years later I meet  Bobby Milton. A name I hadn’t heard in many many years. I didn’t know him, and he didn’t remember me, but he was probably 10 years older and into racing cars when I was in elementary school. But when I mentioned his Great Dane, Xeno he smiled and said, “You really did grow up here.”

He then went across the street and pushed out another neighbors driveway where a nine year old boy had been shoveling for several hours. It was a random act of kindness, one of several in the week I will remember.

Day 40/365: Friendly’s Sundae Break

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Day 40: Friendly's Sundae Break

Oh, how this Mint Chocolate Chip Sundae at Friendly’s Restaurant hit the spot. Every part of this sundae from the whipped cream to the smooth ice cream and rich hot chocolate was so delicious and the best part is I shared it with my best friend Laura.

A friend who opened up her door early Saturday morning at 1:30 am and let me crash on her couch, a friend who held my hand through the worst of the day, and a friend who from across 1500 miles still knows when I need a phone call before I do.

We don’t have Friendly’s Restaurants in Nebraska, and every time I go home to Connecticut this tradition has to be fulfilled. There isn’t any other ice cream restaurant like it in the United States. Sure, they serve food, and other restaurants serve ice cream, but none dedicates a whole menu just to sundaes.

A little part of world disappeared as we sat, laughed, and made mmmmm,….,mmmmm sounds as we savored our twin mint chocolate chip sundaes.

Day 40: Couldn't resist another picture...a "Happy Ending"