For a while, I'd set my heart on seeing the Magna Carta exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts. The July 23 gallery tour particularly interested me, but that day's 90+ degree temperature prohibited us from going. That Friday, we scheduled The RIDE to take us, but when we learned that it would be at least an hour late picking us up at the apartment (we called when it was 20 minutes late), we cancelled and took the T to the North End.
So we decided to go this past Wednesday. Our PCA would get us up early, and we'd catch the 9:30 bus to Ashmont Station. The wheelchair repairman changed those plans Tuesday by calling to say he'd bring my new joystick Wednesday.
But yesterday, our PCA arrived early, got us dressed and fed...and we made it to the bus stop on time! Two connections later (the Red Line to Park Street and the Green Line to Museum of Fine Arts), we wheeled into the museum and found our exhibit!
As I expected, the museum prohibited us from photographing that particular exhibit--for very good reason. One of only four remaining original copes, the document we saw dates back to 1215. Its current tour of America leads up to its 800th birthday. Written on lambskin parchment in medieval Latin, it set the foundation of civil liberties in the free societies of Western Civilization, inspiring the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution of the United States and other great American documents. Such an international treasure demands the utmost respect.
I went to it twice, filled with an awareness that I'd been granted yet another great and rare privilege that few people experience. I felt simultaneously honored and humbled to be in its presence, knowing its pivotal power in the course of history. My heart trembled from the profound realization that I beheld a rare document that, with a few strokes of a pen, radically changed much of the world.
I've felt that strange mixture of humility and honor at other times. Even before moving to Boston, I've seen the Lord bless me with opportunities that even most able-bodied people never get to enjoy. Those precious and amazing opportunities, of course, have multiplied and accelerated so much since I've been in Massachusetts that I sometimes fear I've had all my reward in this life.
Then, with relief and joy, I remember that my true reward still awaits in heaven, when I will forever gaze into the face of Jesus. Once I see Him, clothed in a splendor that defies my imagination, even something as awe-inspiring as the Magna Carta (an item well worth all the wait and effort we went through to glimpse) will dissolve into insignificance.