(no subject)
He is up at six in the morning. As he peers out from behind the blinds, he thanks God for giving him this day. It is overcast and not quite raining yet, and the dark clouds will leave no room for surprise for when the storm comes. The blinds cast an uneven, zebra striping across the room. It is a small room with yellowed paint, a skinny bed with a small nightstand next to it, and a desk in the corner. There is a framed picture of Jesus with His sacred heart burning in His chest. It hangs on the empty side of the room, decidedly off-center so that it receives the first light of the day.
On the nightstand is a glass of water, a tiny clock, and a small lamp with a pull-switch. He pulls this switch and the lamp casts a weak glow about the nightstand and bed. There are rosary beads hanging off of the lamp and he carefully pulls it free. They are a dark red with a plain, wooden cross hanging from the bottom. He stares at the beads for a moment, and then moves to the picture of Jesus and kneels. Kneeling is a slow process for him. His bones are weak and he always fears that they will crumble to dust as he bends. Today, he kneels with just the popping of his joints and thanks God for giving his bones the strength to last another day.
On the ground, he makes the sign of the cross on his body. He wipes his mouth with his hand before he starts, and his skin makes the same sound as dry paper. He picks up the bead closest to the wooden cross and, nuzzling it with his fingers, begins to mouth these words soundlessly:
I believe in God the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth
and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord
Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary
suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried.
There is no heat in the room this morning and his breath creates a tiny bit of fog in the air around his face. He is wearing a thin, worn cardigan full of small holes and as his fingers slip from bead to bead, he slowly rocks his body to keep from shivering.
On the nightstand is a glass of water, a tiny clock, and a small lamp with a pull-switch. He pulls this switch and the lamp casts a weak glow about the nightstand and bed. There are rosary beads hanging off of the lamp and he carefully pulls it free. They are a dark red with a plain, wooden cross hanging from the bottom. He stares at the beads for a moment, and then moves to the picture of Jesus and kneels. Kneeling is a slow process for him. His bones are weak and he always fears that they will crumble to dust as he bends. Today, he kneels with just the popping of his joints and thanks God for giving his bones the strength to last another day.
On the ground, he makes the sign of the cross on his body. He wipes his mouth with his hand before he starts, and his skin makes the same sound as dry paper. He picks up the bead closest to the wooden cross and, nuzzling it with his fingers, begins to mouth these words soundlessly:
I believe in God the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth
and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord
Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary
suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried.
There is no heat in the room this morning and his breath creates a tiny bit of fog in the air around his face. He is wearing a thin, worn cardigan full of small holes and as his fingers slip from bead to bead, he slowly rocks his body to keep from shivering.