Love is not loved: visiting charlie hebdo

L'Amour n'est pas aimé! / Love is not loved!
 The slogan of the Maison-Mère Jésus-Hostie

I put on my Indian Jasmine flower-necklace and headed to the house of the Mother of Jesus, a Franciscan house of prayer where the nuns are said to praise the virgin Mary as their queen, love her as their mother and see her as a model.

"This is the perfect place to ask for help for the orphan girls of Sierra Leone", I thought to myself. I entered a room with a large vase with yellow roses.

I entered the hall. There the Divine mother herself welcomed me into her house! 

I joined the palms of my hands and stood before her for a while. I felt like a circle was closed. I first went to the Notre Dame de Paris, met sister Mary of Betlehem, and now I am in her church, face to face with the Holy Mother.

I opened the next door: inside the prayer hall a mosaic with palm trees decorated the ceiling and suggested a biblical environment. The windows were decorated with abstract art made by the artist Kim En Joong. Everything was tastefully minimalist. And here again, yellow roses.

I headed to the sister who sat at the reception. An elderly lady dressed in a purple veil and dress looked at me in a strict, but friendly way. I explained who I was and that I came here to ask for help for the girl orphans of Sierra Leone. "If there is any place that would help these poor children, then it must be the religious ones!"
The sister laughed: "We are supposed to, but we are humans too, we are not perfect."
Sister Mary of Bethlehem, the one I looked for, was on a pilgrimage to Pontmain in Bretagne. Mother Mary was said to have appeared there in the sky before a group of children.
I asked if they had a place to sleep for me so that I can give my hotel-money to the children of Sierra Leone. The sister looked around, attempting to find something for me. "All the beds here are already taken by the nuns that live here." I thanked her for her attempt and her friendly hospitality that allowed me to visit her church and headed to Charlie Hebdo, the headquarters of a cartoon magazine that was the object of a terrible tragedy by an Arab terrorist. I wanted to offer them my love and respect.

On the road to Charlie Hebdo children are playing soccer

 I had some trouble finding the place and while I was looking around a lady who also had a flower garland around her neck smiled at me in recognition. I used the opportunity to ask her the way. After following her directions I arrived at my destination: Charlie Hebdo.

The former headquarter of Charlie Hebdo was decorated with graffiti that honored the victims of the attack. Strangely enough the whole space had a painful, but also sacred energy to it. These people were martyred for their convictions. The building still is a place for creative endeavors. It was now in use by designers and artists. 

I wanted to offer some flowers to the site, but had nothing with me except my flower garland. I took it off and hanged it next to the portraits of the fallen cartoonists. A soft breeze blew the garland left and right.

My Jasmine garland next to the Charlie Hebdo memorial