Unique cross
It’s a sunny spring day in Lithuania, and I’m standing on a hillside, gazing up at a sky as blue as a robin’s egg. Before me stretches a sea of crosses, each one unique and handcrafted by its owner to honor a loved one, a milestone or a national tragedy. Some are small and delicate, with thin beams of wood; others are broad and thick, to bear the weight of many hands and many prayers. Some are new and bright, the color of fresh snow; others are weathered and gray, the color of old bones.