Extract from my forthcoming book - EXPERIENCING GOD in WRONG CLOTHES The doughnut-shaped machine swallows the nun. She’s wearing a plain T-shirt and loose hospital pants rather than her usual habit and veil. She rests her ear-plugged head on foam cushions to dampen the device’s roar. She prays it will all be over soon. A voice echoes in her head. Not too long to go, in a minute I will ask you to remain very still, take a deep breath and hold it until I say breath out. She waits, thinks back to that voice all those years ago, when she was on the verge of womanhood. His voice, calling her to be his bride. The voice that her fellow sisters wished they‘d experienced and had pretended they had. The machine roars rhythmically. She closes her eyes, wonders how such an immense investigator is able to find such a small thing. Looking for a needle in a haystack. Looking for angels on it’s point. What’s she doing now? She looks…. How? Self-absorbed. What does that mean? That’s not enough. Are her eyes closed? They’re open. Staring. At? Nothing I can see .………………………………......................... Upon me, His glance has fallen. She sits on the edge of her bed, waiting for the bell to sound for Rising. She has already been up, washed and dressed for two hours. She stands up, brushes down her habit and walks towards the door. As she does so she catches sight of herself in the small mirror above the washstand. She stops, looks at herself straight in the eye. A young woman looks back at her. Round, fresh face; cheeks slightly reddened; blue piercing eyes, golden blond hair. She frowns, looks confused, looks down. Thinks for a moment of past times. Then looks up again. An older face; wrinkled; cheeks sagging slightly; blue eyes saddened; hair covered, looks at her straight in the eye. Upon me, His glance has fallen, she whispers. One night, two months previous, she awoke to voices whispering. She could not make out the words. She turned on her bedside light, sat upright in bed and looked around the room. There was no one. The voices continued. I don’t understand, she said quietly, what are you saying? The voices continued. What do you want of me? They didn’t answer. She’d heard voices before, many years ago, but she knew then that the many were in fact only one. His voice. But these were not one voice, these were many. She felt uneasy. She pulled back the cover and started to get out bed. As she did so she felt a slap across her face that had such force it threw her body across the bed.
Posted on: Thu, 15 Jan 2015 09:35:17 +0000