The Miracle of the Images. Welby Thomas Cox, Jr.

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      "So your Mother passes away...and you are just out there...about four years old...all alone?"

      "Not exactly Father... somehow she was befriended by a middle-aged couple who had a farm near-by Dayton. They were shocked by her death and reported it promptly to the police. They told the authorities at the Coroner's Inquest that they did not know her...had picked her up on the highway in a driving rain storm... and, that she was seriously ill with high fever...she passed away in the night." Aldo paused for a sip of coffee to ease the sudden crowding in his throat...a moment to collect his feelings.

      "My Mother became another statistic, and I, the de facto child of the elderly couple who were devoted to the Holy Mother through the rosary which they prayed each and every day of their lives for a child...hence the name Theodore... 'Child of God' which I answered to until they passed away in the sixties in deference to them. After that I began to use my given name...which, of course, the three of us knew but never used.

      "Yes I know the devotion of older Catholics, which would be a blessing to the Holy Mother church if that spirit would return, but today we have flip flops, dirty jeans, mid-drift blouses revealing tattoos on buttocks and navels and various other locations. We have rings on every finger and in noses, lips, tongues and ears. We have women with small children who refuse to take them to the partitioned space provided for them...do they go there...of course not, they would prefer to let them terrorize me during the Mass and all others near them" I said eyeing the screen which showed the Irish up by ten points at half time. Michigan had failed to mount an offense but there was another half to play."

      "So Father Francis...why do you not rail against these activities from the pulpit...it seems that these poor folks are begging for some authority figure to direct their despicable lives." Aldo inquired.

      "Aldo I should do just that...but do you know what would happen...they would drop out...and I suppose having them in the church in some form gives hope to the future; and it appears that these unnatural choices will be discarded by the next generation who perceive the parental choices of dress and doing dope as negatives to a responsible life." I said.

      "I see...sort of like...Better off with the suits than empty vestments?" Aldo said.

      Father Francis rather ignored the comment, which was a direct sleight to the priesthood...remembering that he was not here to argue with the Penitent.

      "So the authorities just assumed that this family living out there on this remote farm, had this only child and tried to offer a warm, dry place to a woman they picked up on the highway?" I said.

      "Correct."

      "But what about school?"

      "I did not...you know living way out on the farm...and my Mother was a former school teacher... so I was an early home schooled child...no questions. And my new parents were much too frightened to disclose the truth about me and so we remained aloof and after a few years we began to mesh into the farm community."

      "Sort of like Superman." I said.

      Aldo laughed as well.

      "Aldo, are you able to tell me the name of the family?" I asked.

      "Must I, since they have long since passed?" Aldo implored.

      "The truth only matters during the rest of the confession." I said.

      And then Aldo made a remarkable and strange comment in response to me.

      "I don't suppose that anyone could be trusted that was known to be untruthful." He said.

      "No, lying is an unremarkable quality...unacceptable in life generally and most especially here in the confessional. After all Aldo, it is here that you have come for the Pastor to forgive. .Wouldn't it make a total mockery of the confessional if in fact you had lied." I asked.

      "Father...I wasn't speaking of myself...I was thinking more of my adopted parents. I am quite certain they must have been truthful to the Parish Priest especially when I was baptized, made my communion and confirmation..." He said.

      "No I am quite certain that they would have confided in the Priest...just as you have chosen to do so. You will see, after your confession what a weight lifting experience the sacrament really is." I said with every assurance that I had spoken the truth and I was quite certain looking into the still gray/blue eyes of the Penitent that he was speaking the truth as well.

      "So Aldo ...when did you start to exhibit the talent for art?" I asked.

      "When I was in the second grade, my Mother took me to classes at the public school in art and sports, a small concession for the home schooled. It was there that I discovered an affinity for color and design. By the time I was twelve, I was painting landscapes with a decided technique of bold brush strokes, original color selection and unique design elements. My teachers were quite impressed and they often spoke to my Mother of my being a child prodigy." He said.

      "But you never went to public school...otherwise?" I asked.

      "No Father...my Mother continued with my home schooling through high school. But of course I continued to go for the art classes and I was able to join the wrestling and football team. It was the first time in my life that I began to assimilate...turns out I was a pretty damn good half-back...even getting scholarship offers from some of the smaller colleges...but then the old issue of my illegal status crept back into my life and the college offers were forgotten in favor of a career as an agronomist...which I didn't mind all that much because I had come to love the independence and the free nature of the farm."

      "And it was in 1955 that I experienced the dream." He said.

      "Yes Aldo, please take your time here and do not omit even the smallest element of this dream." I said.

      "I had gone to sleep...and soon thereafter, I heard a knocking on the door of my bedroom. I sat up in the bed and was nearly blinded by a shaft of light coming through the cracks around the frame of the door. The light was of a brilliant nature and flooded even the smallest crack in the door-jamb. Of course, I was shocked... taken aback by the knock on the door and the light streaming through. I am certain that I was now fully awake. I got out of the bed and went to the door, I opened the door and the light in all its magnificence came rushing into the room. A woman stood elevated, above the door, filling the entire length and width of the door. I was terribly frightened and I slammed the door in her face. By the time I returned to the door and opened it, the light and the beautiful woman had disappeared. I spent the rest of the night waiting for her return and as I waited, I prayed the rosary." He said.

      "Was praying the rosary something you normally did?" I asked.

      "Yes Father...my parents and I said the rosary together every night before bedtime."

      "And what did you pray for Aldo?" I asked.

      "I prayed for my Parents and for my deceased Mother." He said.

      "And did you dream of your Mother?" I inquired.

      "Yes...I dreamt of her quite often. I could see her coming to me, hugging and kissing me and telling me stories of Italy. All of the dreams were in color and she spoke to me in Italian...her native tongue." He said.

      "She sung to me as well...had a beautiful voice which I wish I could emulate." He said.

      "So perhaps...the lady in the dream was an aberration of your Mother. , .you know of your longing to be with her...near СКАЧАТЬ