𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳

𝑽𝑰𝑰𝑰

Oh good God, what unholy thoughts have been consuming my mind? Where do I even start seeking lord's forgiveness after my mind abandoned him, failing a test of his?

There was no hiding from the shame, for it was all in me, and where can one run from one's self? It was hard to breathe, as if I were forbidden for what I kept thinking of. Working in the kitchen, I was hindered by that utter feeling of guilt, the uneasiness that I felt whenever I started thinking of my late night thoughts. I could feel God's eyes on me, so filled with disappointment that it showered me with the disappointment towards myself. It brought tough tears to my eyes, there was no way that I could apologize for failing the way I did.

I couldn't even look into Mrs. Perkins eyes, fearing that whatever I felt will show through my eyes like clean glass, afraid that she sees the guilt, and the reason of the guilt, the shame, the disappointment, the fear. Admittedly, it was relieving to a point that she couldn't care less about my existence around her as long as I'm doing my required work, other than that she didn't care of how I felt, and she didn't demand an explanation, which, for the first time, I was thankful for.

It burnt me on the inside to think of how I easily gave into it, and how it didn't fail to give me all sorts of feelings that were momentarily pleasant. Though to admit it, I could not deny that it was a good experience to an extent, a deep buried part of me refused to regret any bit of it, and that was the entire opposite of what I desired, penance.

The crowd of thoughts in my head made me lose my concentration on the work I was handed to do, which didn't  failed to draw Mrs. Perkins attention to me, not only that I didn't want it, but certainly feared it. She stared at me for long moments with fierce eyes, burning through me. I hoped that no questions would be asked, and no explanations would be required.

"It's not how it's done." She broke the heavy silence, and I was lost in whether to feel good that I'm running away from these thoughts or fear her next statements.

"Peel the potatoes first and then boil them." Despite her attempts to show as less care as she could, her voice still showed bits of annoyance and curiosity. With how her eyes remained at me so sharply, I could tell that there was a question burning in her mind.

"You haven't been yourself as of late, you seem distracted a little, may I know why?" She couldn't hold it for much longer, and I had yet to think of an answer other than the truth.

"I want to go to church, Mrs. Perkins, I long to pray." That was not an utter lie, yet not the utter truth. The rest wasn't of importance to her, and in anyway she didn't seem to want to know more.

"If that's so, you can go later on this afternoon. But keep in mind not to be late, Mr. Coleman and his lady are coming back tomorrow morning, and we need to make sure everything is well before their arrival." I wanted to hug her a little too tightly and thank her wholeheartedly, but I knew for a fact she'd rather go back to work than to have any sort of sentimental moment.

"I promise." I said a little too excitedly, only to notice that she had already gone back to work carelessly.

_____________

There was peacefulness like no other in the church hall, the air was pure, and everything makes one feel at utter ease. My eyes roamed freely, settling temporarily on everything; the joyfully colored glass, letting in rays of sunlight in all different colors. The candles, recently lit, radiating a certain feeling of warmth, as if it were home, so embracing and as if the flames could somehow reach the mind and spread that certain peace in it, that one would never wish to leave.

The figure of Christ stood before me, big and full of prestige, that by looking at it I felt surrounded by God's unlimited love and grace. Yet still, remembering why I chose to come to the church in the first place, my knees were weak and I was a breath away from collapsing in tears.

I chose a bench, too easily for the church was empty, except for the priest and myself, and neither of us was to care for the other's quiet presence. The stiff wood of the bench was so clean, no speck of dust anywhere on it, signaling that someone was taking care of the church just recently.

As I sat, I interlocked my fingers tightly before me, and twice as tightly I shut my eyes, not allowing a bit of light into my eyes. Still, tears found their way out of my shut eyes once I decided to utter my prayers.

"Our lord in heavens and earth, may you forgive me for the test that I failed, for surrendering to such unholy thoughts. May you guide me, show me your way of light for I am lost. May you open my eyes to the right and wrong. Amen." Before I could comprehend it, I had already started crying my eyes out like a child missing their mother, tears quickly trace my cheeks down to my chin only to be replaced with others.

Then, things changed. No longer could I feel God's eyes, filled with disappointment as they fiercely stare at me. In a split second, it felt as though God, opposite of last time, was looking at me approvingly, with a smile and a pair of loving eyes. I couldn't tell if it was he forgave me or he was simply telling me that it's alright, and I didn't care anyway. All it took was that easeful feeling to replace my desperate tears with tears of utter joy.