Part Two : Unexpected Joy
Wives, likewise, be submissive to your own husbands, that even if some do not obey the word, they, without a word, may be won by the conduct of their wives,
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when they observe your chaste conduct accompanied by fear (1 Pet. 3 )
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And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love. (1 Cor. 13)
At last, spring has come.
Wendy Moira Angela Stuart nee Darling had always loved spring most of all seasons, and by her 30th birthday she came to value the Lent as its most precious period
For her it was something which was long ago called "a spring cleaning", only in a different sense. Whereas her home was always a model for other households, her soul craved for this time of the year to be relieved from all-absorbing cares, burdens and "all that juzz" so she could allow herself a temporary lull, to stop and to thinks of Real Things.
Things that really mattered.
It was Sunday, and as usual, Wendy entered the church with only Jane at her side.
Her husband stayed behind, as he always did.
After the heavy doors were closed behind them, she sighed.
Like St Paul, she would have preferred to be alienated from her Lord herself rather than watch helplessly her spouse to stay away from the Source of Life.
No use, she thought. All my efforts….that's all in vain…..
Overcame by a wistful mood, she made her way along the passage to her favourite spot. Jane has hopped away already to the flock of her friends from Sunday school, and Wendy could quietly stand (she wasn't much inclined to sit down) behind a tall column, near the image of the Holy Virgin.
Somehow, she always felt safe and protected in this particular spot, and started to consider it as "hers".
The image she stood under was by no means common for a traditional Catholic parish. It was painted in the ascetic Byzantine style (the Rector, a man of liberal mind and ecumenical views, brought this copy of a famous miracle-making original from one of his trips to the world of Eastern Christianity).
The name of the icon was "Unexpected Joy"
Wendy looked up towards the loving and anxious eyes of Our Lady and uttered a silent groan.
For in her own family life she failed now to see any, even the tiniest chance for unexpected joy, or cherish any hopes for changes. As it was, there were none to be seen in her horizon
Why was she so naïve as to believe this day to make any difference from the other days of her now not so short married life?
Should it be somehow different only because the weather was so fine, nay, even splendid, on this lovely spring morning? Because the sun has at last made its first appearance on the London ever-gray sky? Or because there was a vague scent of changes, of a budding new life in the air?
Wendy had always loathed diverting her thoughts from the service, but that morning she just couldn't stop the tide of frustration, that seemed to cover her like a dark veil.
Oh, but hadn't everything been talked over and over again between them countless times?
Truly, Wendy believed she had used every argument she could think of…
….That God's love and empathy always were above His justice…
….That we couldn't really call Him The Just One – were it so, we'd have been already in hell for quite a while, my love…
…That every sin, no matter how great, can be forgiven, except for an unrepentant one…
…That there is a chance for redemption for EVERYONE, for goodness' sake!!! If you only don't shrink from it…
Still, the answer had always been the same:
…My beauty, I'd prefer not to get deeper into the subject for the time being.
Beg pardon, my love, but we shall not talk of it.
Oh, man unfathomable!
Why on Earth did he always have to be so difficult?
As a matter of fact, it was a well-known truth, that her husband had never been a easy person.
Neither was he a "nice" one.
Neither back in Neverland, ages ago, nor now, in the 1920s London.
But it was also true, she had to admit, that she had married him not for his missing virtues.
She loved James. And for sure her love had never been a blind one.
She believed in him. That explained everything.
The point was: why couldn't he, for once, believe in himself?
And, which was by no means less important, believe in Our Lord's words?
She scolded herself for being so lost in her reverie, when the sexton started reading the Apostle :
Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up;
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does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil;
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does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth;
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bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
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Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away.
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For we know in part and we prophesy in part.
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But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away.
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When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
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For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.
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And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
Wendy Stuart closed her eyes, leaning against the column.
Love suffers long…