A short piece from last year done for a PP challenge.
A Prayer of Thanksgiving
by
SueB
Mass had been over for at least fifteen minutes and the few people who attended had been gone for ten, but the altar boy still hadn't finished extinguishing the candles. No more than seven and small for his age, the boy moved slowly down the row stretching on his tip toes to snuff each flame without squashing the wick or disturbing the flower arrangements between the candlesticks. A man stood in the shadows of the narthex watching patiently, impressed with the child's careful attention to his duties.
Heaving a sigh of relief when the final candle went out without mishap, the boy genuflected and turned to leave but stopped when he saw the man. The stranger's long dark hair was tied back at his neck. He wore all black. Decorum forgotten, the boy took off running exiting the sanctuary through the door to the right of the altar.
The man made his way down the aisle, his eyes sweeping to the left and right. When he reached the altar rail he cast a glance behind him. Satisfied, he knelt, lit a votive candle, made the sign of the cross and bowed his head. After a moment of silence, he began to pray his voice low and deep in the quiet of the nave.
Dear Father in heaven. I know you aren't used to hearing from me and I can understand your being wary. Usually I only call on you when there are guerillas in the bush and bullets flying overhead. That was the case only days ago. Yet, here I am and she was waiting. I just want to say -- thank you. Amen.
He crossed himself again but didn't move.
"You can come out now, Father. I promise I won't rob the poor box."
An old priest ambled out of the doorway where the boy had disappeared.
"I thought it might be you."
"And why is that, Father?"
"Jesus told me the devil himself was in the sanctuary. You immediately came to mind."
"He's your altar boy?"
"He is."
"Sometimes I frighten the children. Please tell Jesus I'm sorry."
"I call him my little priest. So earnest and solemn, so dedicated to his work. He reminds me of you."
"It's been a long time since I was an altar boy, Father."
"I'm not talking then, Carlos, I'm talking now."
"Poor kid."
"Son, would you like me to hear your confession?"
Ranger's laugh was bittersweet. "Neither one of us has time enough for that, Father," he said.
"He always has time enough and He is always willing to forgive," the old priest replied.
"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Father."
The priest watched as the younger man walked back down the aisle, saw him drop something in the alms box before he left. Unable to contain his curiosity, the priest looked in the box. He found a sum that would keep his congregation for a year at least. "Thank you," he whispered.
The End.