by Jennifer Stanley, Feb. 23, 2010
My Sallman goes back to my early childhood. Growing up, my sister, brother, and I only had to walk into the hall of our house to find Jesus. Our mother loved the picture of the Head of Christ. Every time we moved, the picture went with us and hung once again in the hall. Over the course of time, the picture aged and began to fall apart. The picture did not make the final move to Mom’s new house. On January 4, 2010, Mom passed away. At the funeral home we were looking at the various prayer cards. My brother said, “Well, there is Jesus down the hall.” My sister began to laugh, but I did not get the joke. My brother and sister had given the picture the name, “Jesus down the hall.” We chose that for the cards. The day of the visitation at the funeral home, I went early to drop some items off and walked into the room, and hanging there above my mother was the picture she so dearly loved, the Head of Christ, or “Jesus down the Hall.” The comfort the picture provided was amazing.
