The Angelic Occurrence

by Henry K. Ripplinger

“No…I think I need to meet my birth mother alone.”

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Henry placed the diary on the end table next to his favourite chair in the sun room. He was glad he had brought it home and fully intended to read it, but it was getting late and he was exhausted. The room was still quite warm from the heat it captured during the day. Henry opened the patio doors slightly, returned to his chair and plopped into it.

  “Boy does that feel good.”

  “Goodnight, Dad,” hollered Justin as he followed Lauren upstairs to go to bed.

  “Goodnight, kids.”

  Henry would normally be following the children but he was still too wound up from the day’s events. The tension and aches oozed out of his legs as he nestled into the chair. Thoughts of discovering the diary in a secret compartment of a round table in Marjorie’s house still overwhelmed him. Clearly it was divine providence that he purchased the roll top desk and first being alerted to it by Julean. And again today how he felt her presence along with angels.

  He reached over to the end table and picked up the letter she had written to him before she passed away and read it through. He went back to the part where she said that she would help him find another love in his life:

  “When I go to heaven I will ask the good Lord’s permission to guide you to another love and perhaps the girl of your youth is waiting for you. I pray that this is the case and I will do all I can to bring her back to you.”

  Amazing!

  Henry thought how his dear wife both when she was alive and even after her passing to the other side she is still so supportive and…

  Was this all a figment of his imagination? Would God really give Julean permission to guide him back to Jenny? He had thought for the longest time it was Ivania but Julean seemed to be discouraging that. It all seemed so incredible yet Henry could feel her presence and he was certain that he saw her spirit.

  Henry recalled the times when she was there; helping him to forgive John McBryne, leading him back to the star of the east and the day she guided him to turn and look at the lady who had pulled up beside him…Henry still wondered if it had been someone that looked like Camilla. He feels his wife’s presence so much lately and even now she was in the room with him…he just sensed her presence.

  There had always been this supernatural side to his life for as long as he could remember. It seemed to start when he met Jenny. Yes, the moment he gazed into her eyes something spiritual happened. Henry was certain of it. He could still feel that energy flow through his being. How his eyes stung as if something were caught in them for days after. From that moment on he was in love and even after 30 years of being separated from his Jenny, he still felt that love as if it all happened yesterday.

  And Mr. Engelmann came next into Henry’s life. The incredible relationship he had formed with the wise elderly man and the life lessons he had learned. It was he who reminded Henry of guardian angels and …and that day Jenny almost got hit by a car…Henry shook his head at the very thought of it. It was a miracle, no two ways about it. It was then that Mr. Engelmann seemed to appear at his side and tell him ‘it was her guardian angel that saved her…that he needn’t worry. Incredibly Henry later learned that Jenny had thought so too! Henry shook his head again as he remembered that and the many incidents which followed; his guardian angel, the pewter angel, the star of the east and feeling Jenny’s love and Julean’s presence and…and what about the fresh bouquet of flowers in the angel’s basket in Marjorie’s backyard that Julean alerted him to…these thoughts overwhelmed him.

  Henry didn’t understand it all but somehow he felt blessed by it all.

  He rested his head against the back of the chair in a state of awe.

  The grandfather clock in the living room chimed one, two, three…before the harmonious sounds struck ten, Henry was lulled into a deep, deep sleep.

  Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Henry found himself back in Marjorie’s home. She was sitting at the dining room table with her back to him. Her wheat-coloured hair hung just short of her shoulders. Henry tried to see her face reflected in the mirror across from her on the wall, but he was at the wrong angle. As he walked further into the room she stood and rushed into the kitchen. He followed, turning on the lights as he went along hoping to catch a glimpse of her. In the kitchen he tried to overtake her, but she sped into the bedroom and closed the door.

  Henry hurried to the door, knocked and stood there. After several minutes and hearing no response, he opened the door and entered the dark room. The lilac perfume hit his senses instantly and his thoughts were distracted…Jenny? …no…Marjorie?

  The odour was making him dizzy with feelings of love. His eyes searched the room. There, in the corner she stood, her silhouette revealed by the moonlight entering from the bay window.

  Turning on the lights was of no help to Henry as she faced the wall. He called out to her, “Marjorie, Marjorie…” but she did not respond.

  Hesitantly, Henry walked over to her and took hold of her arm and gently turned her towards him. When her face came into view he was so startled that he snapped his head sharply up and back against the backrest of his chair. The last thought he had in his dream caught in his consciousness, as he became wide awake.

  Could Marjorie Hamilton really be Camilla Pederson? My daughter-in-law?

  That was absurd.

  But what about Peter’s dreams? They seemed absurd as well. He recalled the conversation he had with Angie yesterday. Peter was so certain he fathered a child that night he and his friends took Jenny to the park. For years he dreamt of a little girl with blond hair and blue eyes and how certain he felt Camilla was that same girl…Angie said Peter now dreams of Camilla. It all seems so weird…

  And…and what about Camilla? Is she adopted? Do all these things have any reality or is it all an illusion driven by feelings of guilt, sorrow for past mistakes…searching for truth.

  Henry’s head began to ache again, his thoughts overwhelmed him. He wanted to be soothed by pleasant thoughts. Thoughts he had just moments ago.

  He closed his eyes and desperately hoped to recapture his dream. It didn’t matter if it was real or not. The feelings of love he felt for Jenny when he whiffed the lilac perfume intoxicated him into a momentary rapture of a love he longed to bring back into his life.

  “Yes…” Henry whispered as he lulled himself back to sleep. It was early summer and the lilacs trees were blooming. Jenny couldn’t be happier. She raced over to the shrub and picked a lilac. She inhaled its scent deeply.

  “Here Henry, isn’t its fragrance so wonderful!”

  Henry had to agree…it sent him soaring or… was it really Jenny that sent him reeling? There she was picking another lilac flower from the tree and began chasing the butterflies down the wooden sidewalk on Broder Street.

  Henry was so in love he began to fly like an angel…it was the only way he could catch the love of his life.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Three-thirty in the morning, the phone rang. Even though the volume had been turned down so as not to disturb the other residents, Father Engelmann heard the ring. In fact, he was already awake thinking about the sealed envelope on the night table which held the information he needed to fulfill Jenny’s heartfelt wishes and prayers.

  He rolled over towards his night table and thrust his hand through the darkness of the room towards the phone.

  “Yes, this is Father Engelmann,” Father whispered quietly into the phone.

  “Good morning, Father, this is Chloe, I’m Jenny’s niece at the Santa Maria Home. Do you remember me?”

  “Yes, yes, what is it, Chloe?”

  “I am so sorry to wake you at this time, but Auntie Jenny has been asking for you since midnight. She would like you to come and give her the last rites. I wouldn’t have called you, but she is so agitated and gravely ill.”

  �
��Yes, it was good of you to call me, Chloe. I will be over very shortly.”

  The dial tone pierced the stillness of the night. It was an eerie sound, almost like the steady tone of a cardiac monitor when the heart of a patient stops beating. He had heard that sound many times over the years when tending to his sheep and they had passed on to meet their Shepherd. Father got up and sat on the edge of his bed, still holding on to the phone. A soft peaceful glow filled the room as he instinctively reached for the lamp switch with his free hand and turned on the light.

  It was about this time – though usually a half-hour or so later – that Father would get up to begin his morning prayers and meditation. The reading of his breviary would have to wait until later in the morning. While still holding the receiver, Father gazed at the envelope Jennifer had given him for a long moment and then called for a taxi. That done, Father hung up the phone and dressed. In the closet was a small black satchel he hadn’t needed for almost four months. After checking its contents, he closed the leather bag, then switched off his lamp and left the room.

  He passed the front door as he detoured to the chapel.

  “Good morning, Lord.” At the foot of the altar, Father genuflected and made the sign of the cross. Then he stood and walked over to the altar, put his bag down and opened it. A small brass vessel immediately shone inside the bag as it was caught by the overhead light. He took out the little shiny container, unscrewed it, and went over to the tabernacle. The key was still in the keyhole, Father unlocked the curved door and took out the ciborium which had several consecrated Hosts from the previous day’s mass. He lifted the arched cover of the cup and reverently bowed his head at the mere sight of the round white flattened bread.

  “This is the body of Christ,” he said, under his breath and made the sign of the cross. He placed one of the hosts into the brass container, returned the chalice to its holy chambers and the small vessel to his satchel.

  Just as Father reached the front door, he saw the lights of a car approaching. “Ah, that was good timing.”

  The taxi driver leaned over and opened the passenger door just as Father was about to open it.

  “Good morning, Father, I see you got the graveyard shift, too.”

  “Good morning, Bill. Yes, someone is very ill and needs last rites.”

  Father reflected on Bill’s remark.…“graveyard shift.” Everything so far that morning had been so ominous – the chilling sound of the telephone dial tone and now Bill’s comment, all suggesting death. Father hoped it was not a foreshadowing of what was to come as he settled restlessly into the seat. His head jerked back as the cab sped off.

  “Well, Father, the only good thing is every time someone dies, someone is being born. There is joy and sadness going on all the time.”

  “Yes, that is true, Bill, but there is joy in death, too. It’s a time when all suffering is gone, all the cares are over and we enter into our final eternal home with our Lord. It is truly a time to celebrate.”

  After a lengthy reflective moment, Bill responded, “Yeah, I suppose so, never thought about it in that way… Hmm, joy and celebration in dying.”

  They remained silent for the rest of the trip. Father was praying for Marjorie or…Jenny…Hamilton. What was it that was tugging on his memory? The name…and what was it that Camilla said yesterday about her being adopted…?

  “Good morning, John,” Father greeted the night attendant at the front reception desk.

  “And, good morning to you, too, Father. Up and at it early today, I see.”

  “Yes, yes, there is always a need, John.”

  Nurse Dolan, looked up towards the elevators, when she heard the bell sound. The doors of the elevator opened and Father Engelmann emerged. If it were not for the white collar, one could have mistaken him for an old-time country doctor carrying his medicine bag, making an early morning house call. In a sense, Father was a doctor, only his satchel carried medicine not so much for the body, but more so for the soul.

  “Good morning, Father, thank you for coming,” said Betty, with a smile.

  “Good morning, Betty. Is Jenny still in room 455?” Father asked, as he whizzed by.

  “Yes, she is awake and waiting for you. She seemed so happy to learn you were coming. Her two friends are with her as well.”

  When Father entered Jenny Hamilton’s room, he expected to see a monitor or at least an intravenous tube going to Jenny’s body, but there was nothing. Then he remembered helping Jenny sign some papers, last week, terminating all life support equipment when the end was near; she wanted to die naturally.

  Chloe and Matilda were seated on the other side of the bed leaving the side nearest the door for Father.

  “Hi Father,” said Chloe.

  “That was good of you to come,” said Matti. “You be a tireless worker for the Lord, that for sure. Be it best to go to the waiting room or can we stay…?” Matti wanted to know.

  “You both can stay if you wish. Jenny knows you are here and feels your love and support.”

  Father simply nodded as he looked down on Jennifer. The lamp on the end table cast a soft glow on Jenny’s sleeping face. Father walked over to Jenny’s bedside, put his satchel on the chair then gazed down at her. Jenny was a very beautiful lady, wanting so much to love and be loved. It was at times like this, when he saw how sickness and suffering took hold of a life and sapped it for all its worth, that he dared to question God’s wisdom in it all. How Jenny fought the disease, day after day, until finally there was just no strength left.

  Father felt himself sinking and quickly reminded himself of a passage, “My ways are not your ways,” and that, immediately put a stop to such thinking. To further reinforce his defensive thoughts, he recalled other passages to combat his moment of weakness. Father had learned over and over in his lifetime that one must be ever ready to do battle and have a plan in place. Softly, Father began to recite scriptures of comfort:

  “We have an everlasting home in heaven.

  We shall be with the Lord forever.

  We shall see God as He really is.

  The Lord is my light and my salvation……

  And each time Father quoted a passage, he identified their references …2 Corinthians 5:1, 1 Thessalonians 4:17, 1 John 3:2, Psalm 27:1…

  To you Lord, I lift up my soul. Psalm 25:1

  Though I walk in the shadow of death,

  I will fear no evil,

  For you are with me…Psalm 23:4.

  Come…

  Jenny moaned and opened her eyes.

  “What a beautiful sight to wake up to, Father.” Her voice was low and hoarse. She gazed lovingly at Father and he did likewise towards her. A deep love and friendship had developed over the few weeks he had visited her. Father would have given anything to see Jenny get well. She was included in every mass he’d said from the very first day he saw her. No, in fact, from the day he was given her name as a patient to visit from the director of the care home he had been praying for her. Everyday he pleaded with the Lord to heal her…until Father relented: not my will, but Your will be done.

  Her gaze held so much suffering. Father reached out and laid his hand over hers. She was too weak to respond, she only smiled and nodded her head ever so slightly.

  “Thank you, Father, for coming. I feel the Lord is coming to get me, today.”

  Father just looked down at Jenny and smiled. After a brief moment, he said, “I would like to anoint you with holy oil, Jenny. I also brought communion for you.”

  “Oh, thank you, Father, I was hoping you would.”

  Father turned towards the chair, opened up his satchel and took out a small jar containing oil, opened it and placed it on the night table. He did the same with the brass vessel that had the Host. Next came the white vestment scarf which he kissed and put around his neck. Finally he retrieved his Pastoral Care Book and opened it to a p
lace marked by different coloured ribbons.

  Wearing a warm compassionate smile, he looked down at Jenny, hoping that what he was about to do would offer her hope and instill some measure of faith. Over the past years, he had witnessed many miraculous healings. His reminder of some of those healings, prompted Father to say the prayer of faith. He bowed his head and, in a tone which was barely audible, he said, “Oh, heavenly Father, in James 5:14-16, you told us that when one is sick, that we should pray for them and pour oil on them, anointing them in your name. If it is in your will, oh Lord, I ask that you restore Jenny to health.”

  “Yes, Lord, we be claiming your promise…” Matti said with conviction.

  He knew Jenny was on the verge of death, yet, he believed all things were possible through Christ.

  Father’s gaze returned to the open book before him and he began the last rites:

  “We have come together, oh Father, to celebrate the sacraments of anointing and Eucharist. Christ is always present when we gather in his name. Today, we welcome Him, especially as Physician and Healer. We pray that Jenny may be restored to health by the gift of Your mercy and made whole in her fullness.”

  Once again, Matti, said, “Yes, you be the great Physician and Healer. Come now sweet Jesus, do your healing…”

  Father stopped for a moment and looked down at Jenny. Her eyes were closed. Father did not know if she was asleep or awake. He continued to pray.

  “Father, you raised your Son’s cross as the sign of victory and life. May all who share in His suffering find in these sacraments a source of fresh courage and healing. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.”

  “Amen,” came Jenny’s weakened voice from the bed.

  “Amen, amen!” echoed Matti.

  Once again, Father looked at Jenny and warmly smiled. She half-opened her eyes and reflected his love. Father decided to shorten the liturgy of anointing, skipped the next few prayers, and got right to the anointing itself. He could see it took all of Jenny’s effort just to stay awake.