orangeheart

there is a rickety retired bus driver named dan who comes to weekday mass at st francis. he lights the altar candles & as he crosses the altar he tips his worn-out baseball cap when he bows. tonight as he was walking back he passed where i was kneeling & he tipped his cap to me & said, "guten Abend schï¿½nes Mï¿½dchen. if you know what that means."

"guten Abend," i said.

he blushed. i don't think he expected me to know what he was saying. "when did you learn german? a long time ago, i bet. well i've been thinking that about you a long time now. es ist die Wahrheit, it's true, you know." & then, as he walked away from me, "schï¿½nes Mï¿½dchen, schï¿½nes Mï¿½dchen."

as i knelt there with my eyes closed & not a sound of any footsteps i could remember how it felt to wait in the abbey all those years ago.

& i sat a long time staring at the tabernacle lamp & the blessed sacrament, feeling a little bit on fire, only we don't say Staring At honey we say Adoring.