As the small choir practiced chants in the front few pews, the new priest sat mute in his study, staring at the accounting books for the church. It was his first parish assignment, and he was headed for a scandal. They had not taught the young priests how to deal with bankruptcy. And possibly theft. By his late predecessor.
He might be able to ignore the theft, not impugn a dead priest. But how would he restore the church to solvency when membership and attendance continued to decline?
He wandered out into the sanctuary with its vaulted ceiling, crystal chandeliers, and statues of saints, major and minor. He needed a miracle. Or a rich benefactor. And there weren’t any of those in this poor village.
Then he had an idea. He remembered a summer he spent in the States with relatives.
Bingo! And gaming. The Catholic church there had been known as Father Toomey’s Little Vegas, and the summer festivals seemed to flow with money, carnival games and laughter.
Young Father Elon would try a little ‘legalized’ fundraising when summer tourists started to come around.
Maybe he wouldn’t face a scandal. Or maybe he’d face two.
D-L's Free Write
Ellen didn't have a religious bone in her body, despite her mother sending her to Christian Doctrine classes 5th-12th grades.
In fifth grade she had walked out of class when Sister Agnes hit her hand with a ruler for passing a note to her friend Julie.
She'd walked two blocks to the public school and asked to see the principal. "I want to enroll," she'd said.
They'd called her parents. Ellen went on strike not budging from her home until her parents agreed.
"You'll be the death of me," her mother often said. Her mother did die, four years ago not from Ellen's actions but from cancer.
Ellen had been walking by the 14th century church in the little French village where she now lived. It was beautiful in a religious way. Her mother would have loved it.
The incense smell was heavy when she entered. To her left was a table of long, white candles. Ellen plucked one from a box and lit it.
"Hail Mary," she said, remembering the rosary of her youth.
Her mother would have approved of the remembrance.
D-L, https://dlnelsonwriter.com, is the author of 15 fiction and three non fiction books. Her 300 Unsung Women, bios of women who battled gender limitations, can be purchased at https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/300-unsung-women-d-l-nelson/1147305797?ean=9798990385504
Julia's Free Write
It had been an interesting and educational trip.
She hadn’t really wanted to go, but at loose ends after the divorce, when her best friend kept insisting that it would do her a lot of good to be distracted, she gave in. The fact that her ex, to his credit - feeling slightly guilty had dumped her 64-year-old model for a 40-year-old one – had been generous financially helped.
The kids had long since flown the nest and she hadn’t wanted to tag along on their holidays: they had been generous already in their invitations.
So here she was, with her more culturally inclined friend, going a bit outside her comfort zone and touring some of Eastern Europe’s most renowned sites, museums and quaint churches.
And thus, she found herself in this particular cathedral – to the sounds of an organ being practiced.
As she awoke, to find her husband of 40 years still asleep at her side, and with all the daily tasks before her, she wondered: was this a premonition?
Julia has written and taken photos and loves syncing up with friends. Her blog can be found: https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/
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