The Prayers in Rossford

“You know… I’m sure Father Dan knows this,” Keith McDonald folded his hands together, under his robe and nodded toward the other priest, who was sitting down to the left of the altar. “When I first decided to go into the priesthood, it was just like that. I decided. Notice that. All about me. All about my decision. And I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be a priest. And I had a lot of ideas about what that meant. And I probably still do.

“We know it’s wrong to do wrong things. That kind of goes without saying, doesn’t it? We know what wrong desires are. We have so many plans. We tell God, if we tell him anything, I want to be this lawyer, this professor, this musician… this priest, for you, and here’s all I’m going to do with that. Here’s what I’m going to give back to you. And we pray… I pray, you pray, we all pray, spending so much time mouthing words, telling God things, telling him… and here’s the bad part, not what we need, which is what we should tell him, without fear, but all that we think, and all that we’re going to do. And we… in this world, where maybe we don’t talk to ourselves enough when we ought to, we spend our prayer times doing just that, making inner noise, talking to ourselves, running our fears and our ambitions over in our heads and cutting deals with our Father in heaven who loves us, who would speak to us if we knew how to listen.

“He knows it’s hard to listen. It’s not something we’re used to doing. Is it? I think all my life I knew I wanted this, knew I wanted to be a priest, and I thought I took God seriously. But I took myself, my vocation, my idea of who I was seriously. I am just learning, finally, halfway to forty, to begin to listen to God. If you pray, if you try to listen to God, you know what I mean.

“You’re scared at first. Aren’t you? Scared that if you shut up, if you stop the show, then nothing will happen. You’re exhausted because you’ve been running the show. You don’t believe in God as much as you say you do. You’ve been supplying both ends of the conversation. You’ve been living a life that seems like faith, but that really requires no risk, no one to meet you on the other side. You haven’t done anything you can’t undo. You haven’t started anything you know you can’t finish. You haven’t put yourself in God’s hands. And when I say you… I mean me.

“Do not be afraid to be quiet. Do not be afraid to hear God for the first time in your life, or hear him again. He will be there. And don’t be afraid of not getting it right. We won’t get it right. Not right away. Maybe not in this life. But that’s okay. Because God gets it right. And God loves us, guys—I mean—family.

“Fair can mean a bunch of things. Nowadays we stomp our foot and say, ‘It’s not fair. It’s not fair’, and we mean that it’s not just. Things aren’t measure for measure. Things happen that shouldn’t. Or we even mean that we’re looking at how much someone has and how little we have.

“But fair used to mean beautiful. It used to mean sweet, and good. And God is Fair. He is the Lord of Life. We see ourselves. We see our plans. We see what we want to. But God wants to show us so much more. If we let him.

“In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

The congregation said: “Amen,” and it was a small one for eight o’clock mass with the May morning sun coming through the stain glass, and out of the round window over the choir loft. Brian yawned at the organ, and began to play while the congregation sang:

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;

Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.

Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,

Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;

I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;

Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;

Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

“That was a wonderful sermon, Father,” Barb said.

“I’m surprised to see you, Barb. This early in the morning.”

“The older you get, the less sleep you need,” she shrugged. “And I thought… what the hell, might as well go to Mass.”

“And you brought Dena with you?”

“Milo brought me,” Dena said. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you, Dena.”

“I want to talk to Father a minute,” Dena said. “I’ll be with you guys.”

Milo and Barb nodded, Barb saying, “You come by the house later, Father.”

Keith nodded and Dena said: “It really was a good sermon. And I could take or leave church, usually. I mean it.”

“Thank you, Dena,” Keith said. “It means a lot for you to say that. Really.”

“I… I guess this is all something you’ve learned since you left.”

“Yes,” said Keith. “Most of it. Yes.”

“Well, I just wanted to say that I hope you found what you were looking for. And everything’s okay right now? It’s none of my business, really but…”

“No,” said Keith. “No I appreciate it. And, thank you, Dena. It’s good to have friends.

“We are friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes, Father,” Dena said, “of course we are.”

Nell almost hung upthe phone when she heard the door open, and then she reminded herself: I’m a grown woman. I don’t have to hide a phone conversation from my daughter.

“I’m back from Mass, Ma!” Dena shouted unnecessarily. “Milo’s here. I’m just going to change into something before we go.”

That, Nell reflected, was also unnecessary because Milo was coming down the hall way and Nell shouted, “I’m on the phone, Deen.” Then, “Milo, get what you want from the fridge.”

“I’m cool, Mrs. R,” Milo murmured, seeing she was on the phone, and Nell said, “All right, I’m back.”

“Look, Nell what I was gonna say is,” Charlie was saying, “I was surprised. I was real surprised. But… I don’t care if you’re… four hundred years old—”

“I’m certainly not four hundred.”

“I like what we’re doing. And I’m willing to keep it up. If you are.”

“Yes,” Nell found herself saying. “Yes I am.”

There was a space of quiet and then Charlie said, “So… you free this afternoon?”

Nell went hot, and she felt a shivering between her legs that she wasn’t used to. She looked across the kitchen to see if, somehow, Milo had picked up on something in her, and then she said, “No. I mean yes. I mean I am free today.”

“Oh, good. We could have a little fun, then. If you’re up for it?”

This new, strange Nell who ran around with a twenty-something having a fling, she didn’t know who she was, but Nell decided she didn’t care, and she’d better not. All this being good had done nothing for her.

“I am definitely up for it,” Nell said.

Dena came down the back stair in a summer dress and her mother said, “Dena!”

“Wow!” was all Milo said.

Dena spun around in a circle: “I know! Well, spring has sprung and summer’s coming and I’m tired of jeans and dark clothes and looking pale. I want to be awake all the time. I want to run out and just join the world. What’s up for you, today, Ma?”

“A date,” she said.

“Ohhhh.”

“I forbid you to Ohhh or Oooohhh or make any such noises,” Nell told her daughter.

“Well, Milo, shall we go?” Dena held out her hand.

Milo looked at Nell for a second, blushed, and then bent and kissed Dena’s hand.

“Your chariot awaits. Where shall we go, my lady.”

“Frankly, my dear,” Dena said, leading him down the hall, “I don’t give a damn.”

“You don’t have to come,”

“Of course I gotta come. Put Layla on the phone.”

Fenn put the phone against his chest and said, “Layla! It’s Paul.”

Layla raised an eyebrow and came to the phone.

“Hey, Chicago, what’s up?”

“Your graduation’s this Saturday.”

“That is true.”

“Well, it’s still at one, right? With the graduation party over at Fenn’s?”

“What?” Layla said. “You’re not coming.”

“Yeah. Me and Kirk. We’ll be there. Every time Claire calls me I think how much is going on there.”

“There is nothing going on in Rossford.”

“Uh, let’s see,” said Paul. “Your mom’s getting married. Nell Reardon’s having an affair with a weatherman—”

“How did you know that?”

“C’mon now! And no, it’s not big news. Fenn told me. That’s all.”

“Cause everyone’s not supposed to know. I don’t even know how much Dena knows.”

“And back to you. You’ve got this new guy.”

“Aidan.”

“Aidan!” Paul said, dreamily.

“Oh, shut up.”

“And. AND, Fenn is a daddy.”

“Yes, well, I guess there is more going on than I thought.”

“Yes,” said Paul. “And I’ll be there to see you graduate on Saturday.”

“I’m gonna give you back to my uncle,” Layla said. “I just want to know what kind of present I’m getting.”

“Present! Who says you’re getting a present?”

“Humph.”

“How about my old dildo? I only used it once? Every young, budding girl and gay needs one.”

“Well,” Layla made to consider it, “as long as you bring batteries, sir.”