Jungle Diary: Expurgation

Vespers.

Candles flicker, angelic voices rise and fall, braiding together in harmony, opening out, crossing over, then meeting in unison for the resolution.

*

I sing too, as I move through the motions: sign of the cross, bow, touch the earth, hands open to receive an anointment of oil with what I hope is an appropriate posture of meek supplication.

*

The script and stage directions are both unfamiliar and deeply comforting. I’m the self-conscious understudy. But still, I feel it. Don’t bemoan what you have lost in this world, but rejoice and reside in what God offers, says the priest. My eyes prick with tears.

*

Everything has been shattered. But here, in the glowing church, repeating the liturgy, I sense the possibility of repair and wholeness beyond the material.

*

A baby fusses in her mother’s embrace and I stifle the urge to loose a keening wail for Margaret, two thousand miles from my arms.

*

Treva and I don’t commune, but we approach the altar for a blessing with the other catechumens, and then again when Father calls for all travellers to receive a prayer.

*

O Lord Jesus Christ our God, the true and living way, be thou, O Master, my companion, guide and guardian during my journey; deliver and protect me from all danger, misfortune and temptation; that being so defended by Thy divine power, I may have a peaceful and successful journey and arrive safely at my destination.

Then a lashing of holy water.

***

Once the decision is made, I don’t turn back. I stumble into to the house, and begin packing frantically. I can’t find anything with long sleeves, but I do locate an ankle-length cotton skirt that could be layered, and a cotton towel I could use as a shawl if necessary. I throw some clean underwear and a couple of changes of clothes into my carry-on suitcase, and that’s that. I am both frantic and numb. All I know is that we are heading north.