Here is the church, here is the steeple, open the doors and see all the people.
A simple child's game? Maybe, maybe not.
As you walk toward the Hawkshaw Memorial, the sculpture looms like an abstract shape against the sky—grand and mysterious. From a distance, you see its size, its presence, but the deeper meaning remains elusive, just out of reach.
The sunrise over the water, along with the nearby bridge, beckons you closer, pulling you in with its golden light. As you approach, the sculpture begins to take shape. What once seemed undefined now reveals itself: two enormous hands coming together, forming what looks like a church. Beneath their shelter, nestled safely, is a family—a father, a mother, and a child—held within a circle of love and protection.
It’s in this moment that you start to understand how art can speak to you, not only through its form but through the emotions it stirs. What you first saw as a distant structure now becomes a reflection of something more profound: family, sanctuary, love.
You notice a plaque nearby and pause to read:
The Sanctuary is both a shelter and a memorial. The arms and hands form a shelter and represent protection, our gift to our children. The family grouping completes a circle, symbolizing trust and love between parents and child. The memorial reminds us of our connection to families of lost and missing children, and the hope that we can begin to appreciate their struggle.
The simplicity of the message hits you. Suddenly, the hands before you seem far more significant. What once reminded you of a childhood rhyme, playful and light, now feels weighty with meaning. These hands no longer represent a game—they represent sanctuary. They cradle the family within, a physical manifestation of that primal, universal need to protect those you love, especially the most vulnerable.
Art has a way of revealing deeper truths, showing you more than what first meets the eye. What you thought was merely a beautiful structure now speaks to a timeless instinct—the drive to shelter, to care for, and to love. These aren’t just ideas—they’re actions that shape our lives and those we hold dear.
You’re no longer just an observer, in fact you feel part of the memorial, drawn into the hands, into the shelter they create. The art, the hands, the family—they all resonate with you. It’s as though the hands are speaking directly to you, saying, "You are not alone." The power of love, protection, and trust isn’t just visible—it’s something you feel deeply.
You reflect on how often you observe things—people, situations, even art—from a distance, seeing only the outlines and missing the details, missing the humanity beneath the surface. It’s only when you step closer and truly look and truly listen that you begin to understand the full story. This is what the artist, Sam Nettles, has offered you—a chance to step closer, to see beyond the form,to find the truth waiting inside.
The Hawkshaw Memorial becomes more than a sculpture to you. It’s a reminder, a message of empathy, of love, and of the sanctuary we all seek to provide. It’s not about admiring from afar—it’s about stepping closer, opening the doors, and seeing the people within.
As you walk away, you find yourself returning to that childhood rhyme:
Here is the church, here is the steeple, open the doors and see all the people.
Maybe, you think, it was never just a game. Perhaps it has always been a deeper truth, waiting for you to notice.
