Building From Ashes
Page 19
“Lynne, are you all right?” He placed a soft hand on the young woman’s shoulders. He had married the girl and her young husband five years before, and they had christened two children in the church. “Nothing wrong with David, is there?”
Tear-filled eyes blinked up at him. “Do you have time to hear my confession, Father?”
“Of course. Give me a moment.”
She nodded and went back to praying while Carwyn entered the small, wooden confessional and took a seat on the bench.
Father God, if you’d like me to be more patient hearing your lambs, put it on Sister Maggie’s heart to get me a cushion for this wretched bench.
He settled in and soon heard the other door open. He slid back the tiny screen and listened to the familiar refrain.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been two months since my last confession, and I accuse myself of the following sins…”
The poor girl was pregnant again. And though her heart loved the child, her husband had lost his job and she despaired of how they would manage to pay their bills when they could barely afford to pay their way with two small mouths. Carwyn’s heart hurt for the girl, whose husband was a proud, but good, man who wouldn’t accept charity. He heard the girl’s confession of anger and resentment toward her husband. Her guilt over not feeling joy at the coming new life. Her sharp words to her older children.
By the time she had finished, his heart was heavy, and he knew he’d be seeing another family leave the town. He could find a job for the young man, who he knew was a steady worker, but it wouldn’t be in the valley. The jobs were all leaving, along with the people.
“Go in peace, Lynne,” he told the young woman after they had prayed together.
“Thank you, Father. It always helps to talk to you.”
He saw her cross herself, stand, and leave. Shortly after, a middle-aged man slipped into the booth. He must have come in after Carwyn had started with Lynne.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been six months since my last confession, and these are the sins I have committed…”
I’ve been drinking again.
I was unfaithful to my husband.
I’ve had lustful thoughts.
I spoke hateful words to my children.
I lied to my wife.
I beat a man who angered me.
Though the world changed, humanity did not. The sins he had heard in the days of carts and horses were the same committed in the time of computers and automobiles. Life flowed around him. The town grew, then died. Sin and anger, love and life remained the same. As powerful as he was, there was so much Carwyn knew he could not control. Oftentimes, he was helpless to make things right. But he could comfort. He could advise. And as his beloved sire had admonished him a thousand years before, he could have a purpose.
But Carwyn was beginning to wonder if his purpose needed to change. The community he had shepherded through so much was crumbling. It was inevitable.
Shortly after the man had received absolution, the door opened again. He recognized the step and smiled.
“You the last one, Davina?”
“I think so. I waited a bit so I wouldn’t be a bother.”
“You’re never a bother, dear.”
“You say that, but I know you tire of hearing about my cats.”
Carwyn smiled as she sat her old bones in the chair. Davina was one of his oldest parishioners. He had christened her, married her, christened her children, then her grandchildren. Someday, he would give her the last rites before her soul flew to be with her beloved William again. Davina was there every Friday, faithful as the sun.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession. These are the sins of which I accuse myself…”
He tried to keep a straight face as she detailed her litany of failings.
“And I should have told her that the dress made her backside look like a mule, but I didn’t.”
“No?”
“I told her it was grand.” Davina sighed. “Brenda has many fine qualities, but she’s a poor seamstress. She was just so proud, I didn’t have the heart to tell her. But it was a lie. Definitely a lie to say ‘grand.’”
“You might have to make a pilgrimage of some kind for that one, Vina.”
The old woman chuckled. “You’re teasing me again.”
“Lying to Brenda about her dress is hardly a mortal sin.”
“I hope you’re not so light with the young people about these things, Father.” Her voice held a slight note of disapproval.
“What young people?”
The old woman sighed. “Don’t I know it?”
“How’s your daughter and her family in Cardiff?”
“Doing well. Very well. She was just telling me about…”
The friendly woman began filling him in on all her children’s doings before launching into her grandchildren’s. She did every week. Though her family was caring, they were busy, and Davina was quite adamant about not being a bother to them, so their visits were rare.
“Davina?” He finally broke in.
“Yes, Father?”
“Let’s finish up and just go get a cup of tea at the house, dear. This chair is not the most comfortable.”
“Oh! Well, that would be fine, Father. Is the sister about?”
His hunt would have to wait. Carwyn smiled. “She is, and I believe she was baking a cake.”
“Well, that would be lovely, then.”
Tear-filled eyes blinked up at him. “Do you have time to hear my confession, Father?”
“Of course. Give me a moment.”
She nodded and went back to praying while Carwyn entered the small, wooden confessional and took a seat on the bench.
Father God, if you’d like me to be more patient hearing your lambs, put it on Sister Maggie’s heart to get me a cushion for this wretched bench.
He settled in and soon heard the other door open. He slid back the tiny screen and listened to the familiar refrain.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been two months since my last confession, and I accuse myself of the following sins…”
The poor girl was pregnant again. And though her heart loved the child, her husband had lost his job and she despaired of how they would manage to pay their bills when they could barely afford to pay their way with two small mouths. Carwyn’s heart hurt for the girl, whose husband was a proud, but good, man who wouldn’t accept charity. He heard the girl’s confession of anger and resentment toward her husband. Her guilt over not feeling joy at the coming new life. Her sharp words to her older children.
By the time she had finished, his heart was heavy, and he knew he’d be seeing another family leave the town. He could find a job for the young man, who he knew was a steady worker, but it wouldn’t be in the valley. The jobs were all leaving, along with the people.
“Go in peace, Lynne,” he told the young woman after they had prayed together.
“Thank you, Father. It always helps to talk to you.”
He saw her cross herself, stand, and leave. Shortly after, a middle-aged man slipped into the booth. He must have come in after Carwyn had started with Lynne.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been six months since my last confession, and these are the sins I have committed…”
I’ve been drinking again.
I was unfaithful to my husband.
I’ve had lustful thoughts.
I spoke hateful words to my children.
I lied to my wife.
I beat a man who angered me.
Though the world changed, humanity did not. The sins he had heard in the days of carts and horses were the same committed in the time of computers and automobiles. Life flowed around him. The town grew, then died. Sin and anger, love and life remained the same. As powerful as he was, there was so much Carwyn knew he could not control. Oftentimes, he was helpless to make things right. But he could comfort. He could advise. And as his beloved sire had admonished him a thousand years before, he could have a purpose.
But Carwyn was beginning to wonder if his purpose needed to change. The community he had shepherded through so much was crumbling. It was inevitable.
Shortly after the man had received absolution, the door opened again. He recognized the step and smiled.
“You the last one, Davina?”
“I think so. I waited a bit so I wouldn’t be a bother.”
“You’re never a bother, dear.”
“You say that, but I know you tire of hearing about my cats.”
Carwyn smiled as she sat her old bones in the chair. Davina was one of his oldest parishioners. He had christened her, married her, christened her children, then her grandchildren. Someday, he would give her the last rites before her soul flew to be with her beloved William again. Davina was there every Friday, faithful as the sun.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession. These are the sins of which I accuse myself…”
He tried to keep a straight face as she detailed her litany of failings.
“And I should have told her that the dress made her backside look like a mule, but I didn’t.”
“No?”
“I told her it was grand.” Davina sighed. “Brenda has many fine qualities, but she’s a poor seamstress. She was just so proud, I didn’t have the heart to tell her. But it was a lie. Definitely a lie to say ‘grand.’”
“You might have to make a pilgrimage of some kind for that one, Vina.”
The old woman chuckled. “You’re teasing me again.”
“Lying to Brenda about her dress is hardly a mortal sin.”
“I hope you’re not so light with the young people about these things, Father.” Her voice held a slight note of disapproval.
“What young people?”
The old woman sighed. “Don’t I know it?”
“How’s your daughter and her family in Cardiff?”
“Doing well. Very well. She was just telling me about…”
The friendly woman began filling him in on all her children’s doings before launching into her grandchildren’s. She did every week. Though her family was caring, they were busy, and Davina was quite adamant about not being a bother to them, so their visits were rare.
“Davina?” He finally broke in.
“Yes, Father?”
“Let’s finish up and just go get a cup of tea at the house, dear. This chair is not the most comfortable.”
“Oh! Well, that would be fine, Father. Is the sister about?”
His hunt would have to wait. Carwyn smiled. “She is, and I believe she was baking a cake.”
“Well, that would be lovely, then.”
