I'll pray for him

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic

actions speak louder than words...

author of picture: Priscilla Livesey <3

...

“I’ll pray for him. I’ll pray for him. I’ll pray for him.”

The old woman knelt in the pews on the verge of tears. Her thoughts were with her stray family member. 

As she knelt and prayed, an authoritative priest in white garments led a sermon at the front. His tone was grave and his manner was severe. This was not a man of humour. He continued speaking with a monotonous tone and a righteous riff. 

“I’ll pray for him. I’ll pray for him. I’ll pray for him.” 

The desperate and kneeling woman in the pews paid not much heed to the words of the priest. She performed all of the actions expected of the mass with ease, for the repetition was second nature to her, but her mind was focused elsewhere. Merely her presence in the church was sufficient grounds for her acting spiritual. At any rate she had good intentions. 

“I’ll pray for him. I’ll pray for him. I’ll pray for him.” 

The church was the only place the woman could truly meditate, only she saw her actions as prayer, and would never call it meditation. She believed she had no time for meditation. She believed God would have her back if only she kept to her narrow track. Pangs of anxiety came and passed. Of doubt she had no tolerance. 

To doubt one’s prescribed beliefs was to commit a cardinal sin. The holy house purportedly served to protect from the devil and, amongst the holy, doubt was undoubtedly the devil’s device. 

Of these thoughts she had none, for she lacked the capacity of doubt, seeing it always as an evil that destroys and never mends. The priest knew best, after all. He was a man of God.

“I’ll pray for him. I’ll pray for him. I’ll pray for him.”

The sermon ended and the single file line of church goers walked drearily from the church’s grounds, stopping only to lend brief and ceremonious words and gestures to their fellow spiritualists. The priest stood by the doors, staring pensively into the distance, as usual giving the impression of wisdom with a mind blank. 

As the woman began to wake from her trance she found herself outside the gates, making her way toward her car. A scruffy looking man reeking of chemicals passed her by and inadvertently bumped her shoulder as he passed. He seemed not to notice. 

Her reverie completely disturbed, the woman turned around with scorn.

“I’ll pray for you.” She said loudly, bitterly and out of spite.

The man kept walking as if nothing had happened. Possibly he had not heard her. 

Seething, striding, heart and mind racing, the woman located her car. An unbiased observer may have surmised some great misfortune had befallen her. She sat down in the driver’s seat, immediately locked the doors, and begun to drive home. 

Later that night the woman was saying her evening prayers, knelt on the floor beside her bed with a bowed head. Her emotions were in turmoil. She felt hot rushes of anger and frustration followed by waves of apathy and despair. She wept and then regained composure, remembering God was looking over her. She breathed a shaky but deep sigh of relief. 

Her voice was still slightly shaky and her mind uneasy. Nonetheless she continued her prayer...

“I’ll pray for him. I’ll pray for him. I’ll pray for him.”


Submitted: May 04, 2021

© Copyright 2021 olive tree. All rights reserved.

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