Erin stepped off the bus in Kinkerry onto the earthen driveway of the only gas station in town. She breathed in a hint of gasoline on the fresh, salty air and realized how much she missed the views and smells of her childhood home. After greeting her mother and siblings, she went straight to the cathedral to look for Father Michael.
She opened the tall, heavy doors and walked down the centre aisle.
“Erin,” called Michael enthusiastically.
“Hello Father.”
“Ah. You know I’ll always be Michael to you.”
“No. You’ve been a father to me for as long as I can remember.”
“I helped where I could.”
“You helped a lot.”
“It’s the duty of a priest.”
“Well Mr. Priest. I need one more favour.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve had a vision.”
“What did you see?”
“A magnificent cathedral. And God in the middle of it.”
“You saw God?”
“Yes. And Katey.”
“You saw Katey?”
“Yes. She was with Jesus and other children.”
“Well that must have been a blessing.”
“Yes and no.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw something else. I saw me.”
“You saw you in heaven?”
“Yes. And it worries me.”
“Why?”
“Does it mean I’m going to die?”
“We’re all going to die eventually.”
“Does the vision mean that I’m going to die soon?”
“On the contrary. You’ve seen your own soul.”
“My soul?”
“Yes. What were you doing in the vision?”
“That’s the weird part. I was copying what I was doing on the earth.”
“Aah …”
“Aah what?”
“That’s not what your soul is designed to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your soul is designed to worship God.”
“Well mine wasn’t.”
“Did God speak to you about it?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He said I had it backwards. That we all do,” explained Erin.
“Have what backwards?”
“He said the soul should feed the spirit not the other way round.”
“How?”
“Jesus said, "On earth as it is in heaven""
“You saw Jesus?"
“He said our souls are the building blocks of His Kingdom.”
“Like stones.”
“Exactly. Our souls are living stones.”
“Jesus is the Corner Stone.”
“Yes. Of a city that breathes,” sighed Erin.
“That was very impressive architecture you saw.”
“But why show me?”
“God is calling you.”
“I’m not meant to be a nun.”
“You don’t have to be a nun.”
“I can’t work for a God who takes young children.”
“God didn't take Katey. He spared her. Darkness took her.”
“Either way she suffered. We all did.”
“We failed Katey. God didn’t.”
“What more could we have done?”
“Studied. Been ready. Believed. Not doubted.”
“But you did all that and she still died.”
“Prophets fail. Kings fail. Disciples fail. Priests fail. People fail.”
“Then we don’t have a chance.”
“Jesus never fails.”
“What are you saying?”
“If we can get ourselves right with God, then we will never fail either.”
“But that’s impossible.”
"Jesus said we can do more than He did."
"I don't see much of that in the world."
“No. But each generation gets better at it.”
“We haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Maybe your generation will. Maybe you can help,” suggested Michael.
Erin shook her head and got up to leave. “I have to go.”
“We can talk about this again later.”
“No.”
“O.K.”
“O.K.”
“Hey! I forgot to tell you. One of the Mancinni’s was here this summer and bought the quarry. Everyone in town thinks they’re mad. It was mined out a century ago but they still bought it anyway. There’s no use telling city folk what to do.”
Erin turned to go home but decided to first climb the stairs to the bell tower. As she wound round and up the spiral passage of stone she reached inside her pocket and took out a small piece of THEE Irish Blue. It had been given to her as a going away present from Mrs. Mancinni.
“It’s from Kinkerry,” said Mrs. A with a mischievous grin.
Erin held the pebble between her palms as she looked out over the view of the town and the quarry in the background. She also saw the meadows with the Irish ponies, the ocean as it washed against the shore, and the tiny grave beneath her feet at the base of the tower.