When we stepped out of the car at the mission at San Juan Capistrano, I knew my camera and I were going to have some work to do... (This was the second adventure where I took my camera.)
This is the cute town of San Juan Capistrano:
The mission is right in the middle of the town, but it's hard to tell.
Once you step inside... of course you are drawn right to the lovely koi pond. ;)
We sat down on a shady bench, (it was HOT!) and listened to our audio tours. We were looking at the oldest mission in California, possibly the oldest building left standing in California! Those ruins are 200 years old. Technically, George Washington could have visited this same place, if he hadn't been so busy at the time. ;) It was established in 1776!
One day, 200 years ago, the Spaniards and Native Americans were worshipping their Heavenly Father together in the beautiful stone church they had built, when an earthquake struck. Clusters of rocks fell and killed 40 of the people inside.
A long time later, after Mexico had risen from breaking their bonds with Spain, after Santa Anna had taken over the missions, kicked everyone out of them, and made them into private property, after the Catholic church asked Abraham Lincoln to give them back the missions (which he did one month before he was assassinated), a priest named John O' Sullivan moved to the South West for his health. He moved into a tent at the mission San Juan Capistrano, to restore it and minister to the locals. He was the first priest staying in the mission since 1886 - the first in 24 years.
Years later, with more modern restorations, there we were:
These are the same steps they walked on.
(We weren't allowed to step on them, but aren't they pretty?)
As I touched these columns, I realized I could be placing my hand exactly
where one of those Padres, or Native Americans could have.
It was awesome.
The builders stuck those in there!!
My tiny Mommy (Again)
Our audio tour told us about how the mission's old bells had still recently been part of every day life in San Juan Capistrano. Men and women's voices told their stories of how in the morning, the bells would ring. They knew it was lunch time because the bells were ringing. And the same time Papa came home from work, the bells were announcing evening time.
One man said they also rang the bells when someone had died. They knew if it had been a man, woman, or child by the pattern of the ring. And even if the person had been 90 years old, they would ring those bells 90 times to tell how old that person was.
Memorial to Paul Abiso. He was the bell ringer for 42 years.
More fascinating history from this place in the next post!
No comments:
Post a Comment