The church was small and reminded both of a one-time country school, single room, where children went to read and learn when there was no work in the field to do. It’s only difference, from plain bare walls of such, were the wall-high windows that cast color into space telling stories of the Book as light and windows have since man’s first learning art of stained-glass craft.
Anna looked on the windows, wondering symbols and signs, and the small bronze stations of the cross that circled space and told a single story in way never shown in her limited protestant raising that separated salvation from the sacrifice—an empty cross rather than crucifix, prominent behind altar.
Faiths and religions were strange, and—new to it all—Anna wondered if there were others, as her, who in seeking to distance themselves fully from the practice—alienated and lost—found themselves, and home, only in returning back to origin-religion ancestors had abandoned.
Congregation seemed to her as the faith itself—old. They were the youngest by forty years. It was a dying town, each generation leaving less and less as farms consolidated and no industry arrived. Educating young that were not raised, healing old that died away—aside from cattle barn and fields, there was little to keep families there.
But they had come—with hope and faith—despite the dying signs; believing in resurrection and revival of the place and way of life.
In pew’s place, back-third of the tiny church, Anna and James stood side-by-side, stoic, as they listened to first-reading’s speak.
An old mean, shriveled and frail began, eyes and glasses down-fixed to page as he read from Missal’s place.
“A reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah:
Thus says the LORD: Rejoice with Jerusalem and be glad because of her, all you who love her; exult, exult with her, all you who were mourning over her! Oh, that you may suck fully of the milk of her comfort, that you may nurse with delight at her abundant breasts!”
Anna felt his arm around her, drawing her body close to side; her own fecund and full in maternal’s bloom—her breasts as prophet told—in prepare of gift’s arrival. From attention in listen, eyes turned to him, his own smiling in love and playful affections—encouraged by God’s Word.
Behind, an old woman watched, silent in discernment: the looks, straight-lipped stares to corner-lip smiles; quiet to suppress of levitous laughings.
The old woman held her tongue as prophet spoke on.
“For thus says the LORD: Lo, I will spread prosperity over Jerusalem like a river, and the wealth of the nations like an overflowing torrent. As nurslings, you shall be carried in her arms, and fondled in her lap; as a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; in Jerusalem you shall find your comfort.”
From wrap-draw to Anna’s side, hand lowered, path-tracing over hip and lower on to grab and playful squeezing of her ass through cover-loose of summer gown that kept her comforted in summer’s heat and fullness of her bloom.
Wide-sudden of her eyes, bite of lip to suppress the mirth and playfulness, told in the Word of God; broaden of his smile, widened pupils of his eyes.
The old woman broke her silence.
Large, sharp laugh she worked to fast to suppress, her body trembling in entertainment’s shake, sharp-full of first sound becoming light and airy as strained to keep the glee-sound in remembering how it once had been to be young and fecund and much in love.
Looking up from page, old reader saw, and of distilled, blank eyes, recognition shined.
They were caught, discovered and found out in love and affection’s show.
Sudden and fast, they changed demeanor; bodies becoming sudden-stiffened, straight, and rigid as they sought to deny in extreme open-affection’s show before.
They thought themselves judged, but they were wrong.
They were welcomed, encouraged as in Word.
Such was what birthed new hope and life in a dying place.
It was the only way.
In Anna and he, dying place saw hope—life. Town, parish—religion—had hope for generation-more. In fecund and bloom, together in pew, they took ownership of task each new generation bears—to sustain and raise and love, enduring, for generation-more.
Old woman behind kept in her glee, body shaking in suppression of high-toned giggles of a giddiness not heard or felt for many years.
Woken from blank and bland, old and shriveled man returned to final reading of the passage.
“When you see this, your heart shall rejoice and your bodies flourish like the grass; the LORD’s power shall be known to his servants.”
Old woman remembered how life once had been when young and fecund and much in love, on summer days in the high of sun she and husband went alone to rejoice, bodies in flourish as the grass, in ruddiness of concupiscence to make love in the gold of high-heaven shine and bed of high, tall brome weighted in its seed.