Free Lost and Found in Prague by Kelly Jones Page B

high altar, the six side altars, and an ornate pulpit sparkled, giving the impression everything had been dipped in gold. A grand assortment of carved angels and saints, paintings, sculptures, and spiraled columns adorned each altar. Carved stone communion rails, several with decorative iron gates, separated the altars from the aisles. An abundance of Easter lilies festooned the entire church, bringing to Dana’s mind the expression
gilding the lily
.
    No sign of Caroline, or any other nuns, though Dana was a good thirty minutes early. She glanced around, locating the votive candles in the back of the church, and then she sat in a pew. A few people milled about in addition to those gathered around the main altar, where a Mass was being celebrated. Dana knew this was not the official 9:00 A.M . Czech Mass listed in the brochures, but guessed masses were offered throughout the day for visiting pilgrims. Two women chatted quietly behind her. Dana scanned the right side of the church, her eyes finally resting on the middle altar. A glass box stood above the golden tabernacle, so high it was difficult to see what was inside, though she knew it was the Infant. The brightness of the lights in the church, as well as the natural light coming from skylights in the vaulted ceiling, created a glare on the glass. Dana pulled her book from her bag and flipped to the page with a photo of the little statue. Not really an infant, the child appeared much older, a young boy with cherubic face, pale complexion, and blond curls. Though Dana herself had enticed Caroline on that first visit to Prague by suggesting they could see the world-famous figure, they’d become swept up in events enveloping the city and did not step foot inside the church. Dana had never seen the Infant of Prague.
    Book in hand, she rose, walked, and knelt at the communion rail before the altar where she could get a better view. Protected under glass, the Infant’s features were difficult to make out, though she assumed they were the same as those pictured in her book. She glanced from photograph to authentic Infant. The Infant of Prague, approximately forty-seven centimeters tall, was described as being constructed of carved wood, covered with a thin coat of wax molded into a simple white tunic. His wardrobe consisted of over one hundred garments, donated by royalty as well as wealthy patrons. The Carmelite nuns of the Malá Strana were honored with the duty of dressing the Infant.
    The little figure in the box wore a white gown made of what appeared to be silk brocade with ornate gold trim. A jeweled crown perched on his head. In his left hand, he held a small orb—surely the world. His right hand rose in a gesture with two fingers pressed together, offering a blessing. Dana noticed, along the walls on either side of the Infant’s altar, plaques with words and names and dates, though they were at such a distance that she could not make them out. They were said to be gifts, accompanied, she guessed, by monetary offerings from those who had been blessed. With miracles? she wondered. She had once prayed for a miracle, though she had never believed in miracles. In desperation, she had prayed. Suddenly and unexpectedly she felt a twitch in her eye, a rush of heat across her face. She was about to cry, something she seldom did. But these were not tears of sadness. They were tears of anger. She turned and returned to the pew and sat, attempting to rid herself of these emotions, to create a void, a blank to dismiss these feelings. She remained sitting, breathing heavily.
    Mass finished, the tourists gathered around the altar with the priest. All shifted and settled into a group pose with picture-ready smiles. Various members took turns snapping away with their cameras. Several held replicas of the Infant King to be captured in their photographs.
    Dana glanced at her watch. A mere five minutes had passed. Time creeping. She shouldn’t have come so early. Twenty-five minutes to