by Mary Pearson
the scientist, of course, and following his suggestions as to other healthy additives.” Anne shook her head remembering. “It was definitely a challenge. Most of my first attempts were flat, hard and nearly inedible.”
“Even the seagulls refused to eat them,” Zeke informed him.
“After more than a year of trying, we came up with this bread.” Stacy’s grandmother gestured to the basket.
“How did you eventually get it to work?” Father Joseph asked her.
Grandma Annie smiled. “Trade secrets,” she told him. “I’ll get you a few loaves to take home.”
“I’d like that,” the priest told her. “Have you tried making anything other than bread and these buns?”
“Pizza crusts. We also make a variety with jalapeño and sun-dried tomatoes.
“Might I try a loaf of that and a pizza crust, too?” Father asked Grandma Annie.
“It would be my pleasure.”
“If you can come up with a substitute for tortilla chips, I’d be in the market for that, too,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye.
Stacy could tell by the look on her face that the gears were working in her grandmother’s head. “Expect those chips in a few weeks,” she whispered to Fr. Joseph.
At school the next day, Stacy received near-Goddess treatment, especially from the underclassmen. Sidling up to her in the hallway, Darius put a possessive arm around her waist and pulled her in to kiss her near her mouth. As he did so he whispered in her ear. “You and I are so hot, hardly anybody is talking about anything else.”
Stacy’s heart skipped a beat. “I missed you yesterday,” she said softly.
He held her shoulders and gently backed her into a bank of lockers, kissing her.
“Careful.” Stacy wriggled out of his grasp, scanning the hallway for monitors.
“He just walked down the hall,” Darius informed her, and he kissed her again.
“I still don’t feel comfortable,” she told him and tried to wriggle free.
“I told you, he’s gone.” Darius gestured up and down the near empty hallway.
“It’s not just him.” She looked at her feet as she said this.
Darius pushed her away then. “You’re no fun since you got religion.” He walked away a few paces, then returned. “I was going to ask you over to watch football with me tonight. My brother will be working.”
“That sounds like fun,” Stacy said. Maybe too much fun. “Unfortunately I have Confirmation class tonight.”
“Who am I supposed to hang out with if you can’t come?” His voice was almost a whine.
“Maybe I can come another night,” Stacy tried to appease him.
“Maybe,” Darius’ words were very deliberate, “maybe I’ll invite you another night.” Without another word he left her standing in the hallway.
Stacy’s struggle was fierce to resist calling Darius up and telling him she’d changed her mind. She had decided to forget about Confirmation class—she’d probably never be confirmed anyway. In the end, though, her growing interest in the faith won out and she went ahead with the class. There would always be another night to spend with Darius.
Fr. Joseph was teaching the last year of Confirmation and he was in the middle of a series on the seven Sacraments. He had already gone through Baptism, Holy Eucharist, and Reconciliation (or Penance). He said he was saving Confirmation for last. So that left Holy Orders, Last Rites, and the topic he was discussing tonight, Matrimony.
Father began with the controversial readings in St. Paul’s Epistles Ephesians (5:22-24) where he tells wives to be submissive to their husbands. He asked the class how they felt about this. For the most part the girls were disgruntled and the guys thought it sounded pretty good so far. Then Fr. Joseph went on with the passage, reading the part where it says,”husbands, love your wives… “ He let this hang in the air for a bit before he finished, “as Christ loved the Church.” He paused for awhile, letting that sink in. Then he asked the class, “How did Christ love the Church?”
In reply to his own question he took a bloody crucifix down from the wall and laid it on the table in the center of the group.
Then he asked them, “Who’s got the harder job?”
That was pretty obvious. He told the group that what St. Paul was describing was a life of mutual self-donation, where both husband and wife were not in it for what they could get, but for what they could give, and where there were to be no boundaries to this giving. Only extraordinary love and commitment could make such a thing possible, and you needed to have both parties fully committed to this level of giving for it to work.
Then he told them that more than fifty percent of marriages, including Catholic marriages, were now ending in divorce. Why did they think this was the case? He challenged them to come up with examples of perfect marriages that they knew of and to list them. The list was, needless to say, short. He told them this was because no individual is perfect, and in marriage two imperfect people are united. This makes for a daily struggle. In order to stick with a commitment under these circumstances, the parties were required to transcend their day to day feelings, and to make a daily act of the will—that this is the one person for whom they have promised to suffer, no matter how challenging this becomes, no matter how much they think they may have misunderstood what was involved when they made this commitment, they need to make a conscious choice to live up to that promise, regardless of their emotions.
In the end, he reminded the class, what really matters is whether or not the two of you will get to Heaven. Your job, as a husband or wife—your primary job—is to help your spouse make it to Heaven. Nothing matters more than this. Stacy thought about Maria Goretti and her concern for her attacker’s soul. How good she must have been to worry about someone who was taking her earthly life, and whether he would in so doing, lose the chance at his own eternal life.
As soon as Stacy got home, the promised Shroud books safely tucked away with the others, she tried to call Darius. The phone just rang. He never picked up. Maybe he had decided to go out somewhere to watch the game or maybe he had turned off the ringer. If so, he was probably still mad at her. Stacy sighed.
Emily, watching with concern, bit her lip. “Stacy, why don’t you just hang out with me and the guys tonight. There’s no point in sitting all night by a phone that won’t ring or waiting for someone to answer who isn’t there.”
She had a point. “And do what…? Pray the rosary…?”
“There are worse things,” Emily reminded her. “Anyway, George is starting something new tonight. He calls it ‘religious interval training’. We’re supposed to come dressed in work out clothes.”
Stacy shrugged. She had nothing better to do.
Instead of meeting in the chapel for the rosary that night, George had them come straight to the workout room. Grandma Annie and Rose had a bench from the chapel pulled into the hallway and they were already seated by the time the girls had changed and made it across the street. After they were in the work out room, George put up a gate to keep Reecie safely out in the hallway and away from the whirring equipment. He didn’t want any pinched fingers. He was dressed like a drill sergeant, complete with a whistle around his neck.
“I’ve been reading up on a new trend in fitness,” he told his assembled ‘troops’. Pacing between them, he continued, “it’s called interval training and it helps step your metabolism up to peak performance. In researching the subject I came to realize that the perfect pacer for this training, which alternates between slow-to-medium, is the rosary.” Uncle George stepped out of the room and closed the gate. “Because it’s Monday the ladies and I will lead the Joyful mysteries. Select your equipment.”
After some deliberation it was decided that Ezekiel would lift weights, Emily would take the treadmill, Arthur was on the stationary bike and Stacy would be at the elliptical. Next time they would alternate.
“OK, so you all start your workouts at a medium pace for the creed, the intentions and the Our Father/three
Hail Mary/Glory Be intro. After that, all out to a count of sixty. Use your arms as well if you’re on a piece of equipment that only works out your lower body.
“You’ll repeat the same medium pace during each of the decades—don’t forget to meditate, people!” he admonished the teens, “followed by sixty seconds of all out after each decade. We’ll finish with the usual closing prayers. Now let’s begin. Triple power prayer!” He blew his whistle and the exercises began. Every time he blew his whistle for the sixty count, Stacy on the elliptical would do brisk karate punches to involve her upper body more fully. Arthur did curls with five lb. weights, while riding the bike and Emily punched at the ceiling. They all looked so funny they had a hard time keeping a straight face—at first. Later, when the sweat was pouring down their faces and everyplace else, they didn’t have the energy to laugh at each other.
When it was over they slumped on the machinery, panting. “Good workout!” George patted Stacy’s back. “We’ll do this every other day in lieu of the usual rosary. Have a good night.”
Then they were off to the showers. “That wasn’t too bad,” Stacy commented to her sister as they crossed the street. “At least you get to bed earlier than when you have the rosary followed by the workout. How was your meditation?”
“Better than usual.” Emily bent down to pull up a sock at half mast. “It kind of keeps you alert. George is a goofball
