Light From Heaven (69 page)

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Authors: Jan Karon

BOOK: Light From Heaven
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“ ‘Laura Ingalls Wilder said it is the sweet, simple things of life that are the real ones, after all.
“ ‘Our hearts are filled with gratitude for the sweet and simple treasure of your generosity and friendship. May you continue to abide in His peace and favor.
“ ‘Scott and Hope
“ ‘P.S. We belatedly wish you a happy anniversary. I just realized it was eight years ago last month when I watched you do the same, very extraordinary thing!
“ ‘P.P.S. Vermont is enthralling.’ ”
“A very happy letter!” said his wife.
“I’ve been meaning to ask—did you notice that Hope’s sister, Louise, shy as she is, seemed to get on with George Gaynor? And vice versa, I might add.”
“I did notice, actually.”
He grinned. “My goodness,” he said.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Nearly an hour before the service, he and Cynthia found people in the churchyard, bundled into their coats and jackets. Some were sitting on the wall; others strolled about, admiring the view.
He had smelled wood smoke when they got out of the truck; he glanced up to make certain the banner was in place.
Holy Trinity Episcopal Church, est. 1899
Homecoming Day, October 28
Welcome one and all
It was nothing fancy, but if the curate wanted the trouble of an annual fete, this banner looked fit to outlast the Sphinx.
“Paul Taggart,” said a jovial fellow, stepping forward to shake hands.
“Timothy Kavanagh. You must be kin to Al Taggart who bush hogs for the McKinney sisters.”
“Same dog, diff’rent fleas. I’m from over at Lambert.”
“We’re glad to have you, Paul. My wife, Cynthia.”
“Glad to meet you. My granmaw an’ granpaw went to church here; I’d about forgot this old place. That’s some of my cousins over yonder, an’ my wife and kids.”
“We’ll just go in and get the preacher dolled up, and be right back,” said the vicar.
“I pray we’ll have enough food,” Cynthia whispered, “much less enough places to sit.”
The altar vases shone, the windows gleamed, the stove took the edge off the October chill.
Sprinting to the sacristy, they hailed Lloyd and Violet, who were about to set their food offerings on the table.
“‘Nana puddin’!” announced Violet, looking as if she’d hung the moon.“ ’Nough f’r a army!”
“I brought m’ baked beans,” said Lloyd. “You want me t’ start th’ coffee after communion?”
He gave Lloyd a thumbs up.
Cynthia helped him draw the white alb over his head. “I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said. “You look wonderful in that dress.”
“Thank you, Father. We aim to please.” She buttoned his collar, and put the stole around his neck.
“I’m wild about you, Kavanagh.”
She helped him pull on the green chasuble. “I’m wild about you back.”
Smiling, she tied his cincture, smoothed his tousled hair with her hands, and gave him an approving blast of her sapphire eyes.
His heart rate was up. Way up.
How lovely is thy dwelling place
O Lord of hosts, to me!
My thirsty soul desires and longs
Within thy courts to be;
My very heart and flesh cry out,
O living God,for thee ...
Leading the procession and wearing his new black robe with white cotta, Clarence Merton carried aloft the cross he’d carved from the wood of a fallen oak. Following him along the aisle were the choir—Violet O’Grady, Lloyd Goodnight, and Dooley Kavanagh—also wearing new robes.
Beside thine altars, gracious Lord,
The swallows find a nest;
How happy they who dwell with thee
And praise thee without rest...
Robed, sick as a cat with apprehension, and with his hair slicked down tight as a stocking cap, acolyte Rooter Hicks processed behind the choir.
They who go through the desert vale
Will find it filled with springs,
And they shall climb from height to height
Till Zion’s temple rings...
Vicar Kavanagh bowed to the cross above the altar and joined the choir by the piano, singing as if his life depended on it.
He had welcomed the newcomers for a fare-thee-well, put forth a bit of church history, invited one and all to stay for their dinner on the grounds, and moved briskly onward.
In all his years as a priest, he had experienced few Sundays so richly promising, and so dauntingly filled, as today would be.
“Your pew bulletins were printed on Friday, well before I received some thrilling news, news that affects our entire parish—news that, indeed, causes the angels in heaven to rejoice.
“Add to that yet another evidence of God’s favor to Holy Trinity, and I daresay your bulletin will be somewhat hard to follow.”
He removed his glasses and looked out to his congregation; he felt a smile having its way with his face. “In short, be prepared for the best!”
Several of the congregation peered at their pew mates, wondering.
“In the fifth chapter of the book of James, we’re exhorted to confess our sins, one to another. In the third chapter of the book of Matthew, we read, ‘Then went out to him,’ meaning John the Baptist, ‘Jerusalem and all Judea, and all the region round about Jordan, and were baptized of him... confessing their sins.’
“I’ve always esteemed the idea of confession, and in my calling, one sees a good bit of it. But this notion of confessing our sins one to
another
is quite a different matter. Indeed, it involves something more than priest and supplicant; it means confessing to the community, within the fellowship of saints.
“When I left Holy Trinity on Friday, I was going home. But God pointed my truck in the opposite direction.
“I drove to see someone I’ve learned to love, as I’ve learned to love so many of you since coming to Wilson’s Ridge.
“We had talked and visited several times, and I could see that his distance from God had made things uphill both ways. But I always hesitated to ask him one simple question.
“I didn’t hesitate this time. I asked him if he would pray a simple prayer with me that would change everything.”
His eyes roved the packed pews, and those seated in folding chairs that lined the aisle. There was Jubal. And all the Millwrights. And Robert and Dovey and Donny, and Ruby Luster holding Sissie on her lap ...
“Now, the thought of having everything changed in our lives is frightening. Even when the things that need changing are hard or brutal, some of us cling to them, anyway, because they’re familiar. Indeed, our brother had clung ... and it wasn’t working.
“In our hymn this morning, we sang,‘They who go through the desert vale, or any parched and arid valley, will find it filled with springs.’ When we choose to walk through the valley with Him, He will be our living water. He will not only sustain us, but give us the grace to move, as that beautiful hymn says, from height to height.
“In a moment, we will have a joyous baptizing, our first since Holy Trinity opened its doors again after forty years. As part of the service for Holy Baptism, our brother has asked if he might make his confession to all of us here today.
“Before I call him forward, I’d like to recite the simple prayer he prayed, similar to one I prayed myself... long after I left seminary.
“It’s a prayer you, also, may choose to pray in the silence of your heart. And when you walk again through the parched valley, as you’ve so often done alone, He will be there to walk through it with you. And that’s just the beginning of all that lies in store for those who believe on Him.”
He bowed his head, as did most of the congregation.
“Thank You, God, for loving me. And for sending Your son to die for my sins. I sincerely repent of my sins, and receive Jesus Christ as my personal savior. Now, as Your child, I turn my entire life over to You.

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