Surreal Reality in the Cathedral

She stumbled on the cobblestone as she reached the massive steps leading to the most magnificent cathedral that she had ever beheld – a kindly man caught her….yet he appeared from nowhere. In her haste she dropped her purse and prayer book, and turned her ankle.

“Damn,” she muttered and then bit her lip. She realized that he was still at her elbow, and instinctively threw out her arm. He deftly provided her the stability to steady herself, and she looked up into his face to voice her appreciation. She drew in a breath in mild surprise….he was somewhat young, and had handsome features, and very warm brown eyes. Yet serious. Kindly. “Thank you again,” she murmured…..and broke away, hurrying into the cathedral.

It was a beautifully preserved building, so stately and ornate. Even though it was a national historically marked edifice, but they still held daily Masses ….keeping it an active religious shrine of sorts. She had found it in a brochure, and felt that attending Mass there would be very rewarding. Catholic, she was not, but being Episcopal…..was ‘good enough’…she had said with a grin.

The Mass was about to start. There were a fair number of attendees in the glorious old church marveling at the structure and the mood of the sanctuary, and anticipating a satisfying experience. Uplifting. Riveting. Spellbinding. A little old woman came teetering down the main aisle, stopped at the young woman’s pew, and shuffled in next to her with some hesitation.

The young woman was troubled. She needed the Presence of God right now…and merely nodded at the old woman beside her. She was dealing with so much in her life at the present. So many troubling, perplexing, raw experiences that were pummeling her, almost on a daily basis. ‘God never gives me more than I can handle,’ she sighed, but why, and why now? So much to ponder, so little left to give her attention fully. She knelt on the kneeling bench, as was appropriate at a particular time of the service. While in the humble position she felt her emotion start somewhere deep inside her being. She could not stop it. A sob that ripped from her soul came up her throat and channeled out of both eyes with a force that was almost violent. She leaned back against the pew, but kept her knees on the bench. The little old lady next to her fumbled for her hanky and offered it to the tearful woman next to her. She was aware of the faint smell of lilac of the handkerchief. It reminded her of her grandmother. Her tears kept spilling down her cheeks.

The little old lady patted her hand, appraised her pew partner’s upset, and guided the younger woman’s head down onto her lap. The younger woman resisted for a moment, but relaxed into the folds of the old woman’s skirt. And cried. For a long time.

* * * * * * *

It was still. It was quiet. A button from the pew’s cushion was imprinting into her cheek. She was covered with her own coat, and her feet were up on the pew. The old woman was gone. In fact, everyone was gone. She was alone in the cathedral…..except for the Saints, the cherubs, the angels, a strange incense and the Crucifix. And the candles were still lit. She looked around. There was a Presence. It was eerie. No, it wasn’t. She was fully awake. She thought. She was.

The candlelight…the dancing flames… beckoned her to the altar. She stood as if in a trance, and moved slowly in that direction. She felt that she was about to take the witness stand in a courtroom. She could not shake the feeling as she ascended the steps of the altar. She sank to her knees when she reached the location of the altar. The candles started extinguishing themselves one by one. Why? she questioned – in her dream-like state. There appeared to be a draft coming from somewhere. Where? At the altar she felt very vulnerable. Very naked. Very broken. Very damaged. Inferior. Unworthy. She started to rise from her knees, she felt a human hand on her shoulder, and she stifled a scream in her throat. She saw nothing. She felt the warmth and pressure of another hand on her other shoulder forcing her down to her knees…and started to lose consciousness. “No, My Child, stay with Me,” said a voice from the altar. “Do not leave your awareness of here and Me….”

She roused herself, and felt her fear subside. For there, before her, was the handsome, stranger who her rescued her on the street. He was radiant, and had on a white gown, not the cords and jacket he wore during their first encounter hours earlier. He had radiant kindness and sympathy in his eyes. And said to the kneeling trembling woman, “I know your Sin, dear Child…….I know. It was here 33 years ago at my altar and my table that you defiled it with a man….you offered me not praise and love from your Soul, but fornication with your body.” A tear slid down his face. “How painful for you all of these years…..and you have not sought me to help with your Forgiveness….thought you could do it alone. Thought you could forget about it…..it would go away. I have not forgotten…for it was only yesterday. They say,” he went on with a kindly smile, “that bad things happen in 3’s…..but there are Truth’s that reside in the Trinity of my Father, and spread to the outermost regions of his Kingdom for all His Children.”

He cupped her chin ever so tenderly and said, “You, My Dear Little Black Sheep…you are loved with all the others…. every last one of them. You are never ‘less than’. You are just a little noticeably different.” He voice grew deeper and stern. “Remove your clothing!”

She obeyed…..the state that she was in had grown so unquestionably altered, she knew she was in the Presence of pure Trust – and did not know what was to take place – but needed to obey, as if her life and soul depended on it.

She removed her clothing, but not without feeling some degree of the old shame that accompanied her throughout her life. She stood before him and shook noticeably. Odd, she was not cold without her clothing, and she was cloaked in darkness about her….so she wasn’t so blatantly bare….but was protected by dimness…. amongst shadows as she had been most of her life. But the Sins were beginning to raise themselves into menacing sores all over her body. She started to cry and scream in derision for herself….at herself. She pulled at the robes of the Presence and begged to be released from the pain.

“Please,” she pleaded, “do not forsake me! Do not turn away from me! Please do not. I beg you,” she wept with such sorrow.

He took her hand and led her to the altar where there was a basin, or rather a huge chalice of holy water. A smaller white gown lay draped over the table. He cupped his right hand into the water and stroked her head, her hair, her face, shoulders, torso with the holy water. He steadied her with his other hand…providing a sure, steady warmth of his strength. With visible quickness, the sores appeared to be miraculously disappearing….and only faint remnants of them continued to discolor her skin. Over and over he dipped his hand into the water, yet the level in the chalice never was lower than when he had started. She finally chilled from the water cooling her skin, and he unfolded the white gown and draped it about her. She welcomed the warmth from the gown, and smiled up at the man before her. He glanced at her gown in the area of her left shoulder, and her eyes followed his gaze. She let out a gasp and a groan. Red started to seep through the gown, staining the pure white linen with a brilliant crimson.

‘Oh, No,” she screamed, “I’m soiling this gown….I am not better…you have only cloaked my Sin in white…it is still there…..and still causing me pain!” Her voice rose to a feverish tremor.

He said, “My Dear sweet Child, I would never let that happen – look again – look what is happening to you…..” ….and even He appeared to be so calm and sure by what was happening before them both. He gathered her in His arms, and she resisted not…and He and held her ever so tightly, yet with a gentleness and tenderness of Love – that was very foreign to her.

He bowed over her cradled form, his hair caressing her face. “And now it begins, My Child,” he tenderly breathed, “and now it begins….and I am here. Stay with me, Little Child, do not leave this wondrous passage,” he whispered.

And thus the pain and ugliness of Sin, housed within her personal Purgatory started creeping out of her very being, through every orifice seeking escape into the valley of Forgiveness. The vile venom, and self-loathing were vomited and expelled with such a volume and force….that both she and her Healer were drenched in the black fury of the nasty bile. She birthed and purged the Troubles, the Pain, the Ghosts, the Demons and the ugly placenta that held her sins, which bound her ever so tightly for decades.

He murmured prayers of redemption, praying to the Father for her deliverance. He kept a caring vigil over her physical condition…. “Stay with me, Child, you need to witness your being freed from your Sin….Remember…and know that I am God.” Her convulsing was racking her body… both beings present were covered with the nasty evil of many years of unforgiven sins. Her face was alive with a radiance that indicating that she was coming into the beauty of the Kingdom.

“Don’t leave me, Child…stay with me….it is not your time….you will survive this!!!" he pleaded with her and his Father. He comforted her as the Ugliness and the Wasted Essence was discarded from her body. She convulsed one last time before the final unintended Evil –her Shame- emanated from her body. He pressed her tightly to Him, and cast her Shame into the holy water. Her convulsing form was now quiet and spent.

Almost reverently, through her gown, the ugly red-brown sight of the blood, mixed with the putrid vileness, had transformed into a glowing red light…..from under her gown….like a beacon lighting her soul…. via a channel from her heart.

He smiled. He knew that her pain and crime were erased. Her debt had been paid. Her pain had taught a lesson, and been banished from her life. The presence and then absence of her shame and Sin….had brought another lost Sheep to Him……black sheep as she was. He placed the papyrus and quill pen in her hand, and kissed her ever so tenderly. “Go tell the World, My Little Child…. you can do this. This is your Purpose.”

* * * * * * * * *

She felt something stir under her resting head. She opened an eye and looked up at the withered old woman’s face, who was smiling a tender smile down on the younger woman. “You slept awhile, my dear,” she said, "you missed the Mass.”

She pulled herself to an upright position and smoothed her hair – only to notice it was unmistakably damp. She looked to her left at the old woman, only to see her silently move to leave the pew, her white skirt billowing out from under her plain brown coat….. she was surprised to see sandals were cladding the old woman’s feet….in the dead of winter. She turned back to the younger woman and outstretched her closed right hand. Her gnarled hand unfurled to reveal a small white dove, which immediately flew to the younger girl’s shoulder, and cooed and nuzzled her neck. At that second the older woman vanished from sight. The glowing red light in the younger woman’s breast brilliantly shone….a beacon of Light to accompany her always, from that moment on. An old sheath of paper lay where the old woman sat in the pew….it merely said,

“Know that I Am God; Clean Your Spiritual House; Help Others; Carry the Message.”

The Beginning of Your New Life.

This is a true story. Up to a point in the story...it was viewable from the physical plane.

After that point, the events were recorded in another dimension.

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