members lost
their places in the music. And although it seemed like an eternity, it was only
two seconds before Randall leapt from behind the organ and directed the rest of
the piece a cappella.
When it was over, Rebecca whispered to Francesca, “Well,
we butchered that one, didn’t we?”
Randall wasn’t looking at the choir, Francesca noticed. That’s a bad sign, she thought. On the
days when it went well, he lavished praise on them. But when there were
mistakes, he usually grew silent and moody. Maybe
I don’t want to get involved with a temperamental musician, Francesca
reflected. I think I’d rather have
someone more stable. But at that moment, Patricia rushed up to Randall and
gave him a hug, and Francesca felt a surprisingly strong wave of jealously wash
over her.
“You were wonderful, but what happened to the organ?”
Patricia queried in a loud voice.
With what appeared to be a Herculean act of will,
Randall replied quietly through clenched teeth, “I have no idea.”
When Mass was over, as Francesca started gathering up
her music, she glanced toward the back door, where she saw Father William being
accosted by an angry parishioner.
“Let me get this straight, Father,” the man growled. “If
I genuflect wrong, that’s a sin. If I don’t dress right, that’s a sin. It looks
like the church is filled with potential land mines. Wouldn’t it be safer for
my soul if I just stayed home?”
Just then, Francesca saw a little girl -- who looked
about four years old -- running over to Father William, giggling. The child was
carrying a wrinkled piece of construction paper on which there were pasted
ragged cotton balls.
“I made this for you,” she said.
“It’s wonderful!” Father William exclaimed. He accepted
the gift and held it as if it were a sacred manuscript from the early centuries
of Christianity. Then he turned his attention back to the parishioner.
“I certainly didn’t mean to imply that, well, that not
genuflecting and dressing too casual were sins. What I meant to say was that…”
But at that minute, the child interrupted him, tugging
at his arm and pointing at the paper.
“Those are LAMBS, Father, like the ones Jesus
loves!”
Both men looked at each other and then at the child, and
Francesca saw them smile.
“The lambs are wonderful! Thank you!” Father William
said, reaching down to pat the child on her head.
Then he extended his hand to the man, who was staring a
bit sheepishly at the floor.
“I’m very glad you’re here at Mass, and I hope to see
you next week.”
“You got it, Father. No worries. And, er , uh, well, I’m sorry if I was a little steamed.”
Just then the child’s mother swooped down and retrieved
her.
“Come along, now, love,” the mother said. “We’re going
to light a candle for granny.”
The child took her mother's hand and they rushed away.
“Well, Father, you have a good week now,” the man said.
Father William smiled and nodded. He looked down at the
clumps of cotton on the paper.
“You too.”
* *
*
Father John came rushing down the aisle. I’m dying for a cigarette, he thought . I’ll give them up as soon as the stress
around here dies down. After all, I’ll need my wits about me to handle the
barrage of complaints that will probably result from William’s performance
today.
“Father John.” He heard his voice being called rather
urgently by Randall. The priest stopped by the organ.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Father,” Randall said in a voice loud enough to startle
the parishioners who were still kneeling in the pews, praying. “I warned you
about the organ. It’s on its last legs. And the terrible noise it made today is
just the tip of the iceberg.”
Father John, his nerves frayed to the last thread,
didn’t appreciate the temper tantrum. He leaned closer to Randall and looked
him directly in the eyes.
“As I told you the other night,” he said slowly and
distinctly, “We can’t buy
their places in the music. And although it seemed like an eternity, it was only
two seconds before Randall leapt from behind the organ and directed the rest of
the piece a cappella.
When it was over, Rebecca whispered to Francesca, “Well,
we butchered that one, didn’t we?”
Randall wasn’t looking at the choir, Francesca noticed. That’s a bad sign, she thought. On the
days when it went well, he lavished praise on them. But when there were
mistakes, he usually grew silent and moody. Maybe
I don’t want to get involved with a temperamental musician, Francesca
reflected. I think I’d rather have
someone more stable. But at that moment, Patricia rushed up to Randall and
gave him a hug, and Francesca felt a surprisingly strong wave of jealously wash
over her.
“You were wonderful, but what happened to the organ?”
Patricia queried in a loud voice.
With what appeared to be a Herculean act of will,
Randall replied quietly through clenched teeth, “I have no idea.”
When Mass was over, as Francesca started gathering up
her music, she glanced toward the back door, where she saw Father William being
accosted by an angry parishioner.
“Let me get this straight, Father,” the man growled. “If
I genuflect wrong, that’s a sin. If I don’t dress right, that’s a sin. It looks
like the church is filled with potential land mines. Wouldn’t it be safer for
my soul if I just stayed home?”
Just then, Francesca saw a little girl -- who looked
about four years old -- running over to Father William, giggling. The child was
carrying a wrinkled piece of construction paper on which there were pasted
ragged cotton balls.
“I made this for you,” she said.
“It’s wonderful!” Father William exclaimed. He accepted
the gift and held it as if it were a sacred manuscript from the early centuries
of Christianity. Then he turned his attention back to the parishioner.
“I certainly didn’t mean to imply that, well, that not
genuflecting and dressing too casual were sins. What I meant to say was that…”
But at that minute, the child interrupted him, tugging
at his arm and pointing at the paper.
“Those are LAMBS, Father, like the ones Jesus
loves!”
Both men looked at each other and then at the child, and
Francesca saw them smile.
“The lambs are wonderful! Thank you!” Father William
said, reaching down to pat the child on her head.
Then he extended his hand to the man, who was staring a
bit sheepishly at the floor.
“I’m very glad you’re here at Mass, and I hope to see
you next week.”
“You got it, Father. No worries. And, er , uh, well, I’m sorry if I was a little steamed.”
Just then the child’s mother swooped down and retrieved
her.
“Come along, now, love,” the mother said. “We’re going
to light a candle for granny.”
The child took her mother's hand and they rushed away.
“Well, Father, you have a good week now,” the man said.
Father William smiled and nodded. He looked down at the
clumps of cotton on the paper.
“You too.”
* *
*
Father John came rushing down the aisle. I’m dying for a cigarette, he thought . I’ll give them up as soon as the stress
around here dies down. After all, I’ll need my wits about me to handle the
barrage of complaints that will probably result from William’s performance
today.
“Father John.” He heard his voice being called rather
urgently by Randall. The priest stopped by the organ.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Father,” Randall said in a voice loud enough to startle
the parishioners who were still kneeling in the pews, praying. “I warned you
about the organ. It’s on its last legs. And the terrible noise it made today is
just the tip of the iceberg.”
Father John, his nerves frayed to the last thread,
didn’t appreciate the temper tantrum. He leaned closer to Randall and looked
him directly in the eyes.
“As I told you the other night,” he said slowly and
distinctly, “We can’t buy
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