CHAPTER 12
“We can slip in one more game of Uno before the bell rings for Night Prayer and Grand Silence,” said Sister Scholastica as she deftly shuffled the black and white cards that were used for playing the card game.
The goal of the game was to have as few points as possible when the game ended. Saint Ignatius Loyola encouraged people to see everything in life as a gift, so when one player caused another player to accrue extra points, someone in the group often said: “All is gift” as everyone but the “victim” laughed heartily.
After “gifting” one another many times over, the bell outside the Oratory rang and the group peacefully and silently put the cards away and made their way outside to the little Oratory where they would chant their Night Prayer in the glow of cantle light.
At the very end of the service Brother Benedict lit the small clear vigil light in front of the icon of the Blessed Mother and Sister Jane de Chantal intoned the final communal prayer of the day, the Marian Anthem, which at this time of the liturgical year, was the Salve Regina, or Hail Holy Queen. Though now chanted in English rather than Latin, the ancient Gregorian melody was retained. Though some of the words were antiquated and harsh, it captures the reality of the light and darkness of life, which for the Christian, always ends in Light.
Mary we greet you, mother and queen all merciful;
Our life, our sweetness, and our hope we hail you.
To you we exiles, children of Eve, lift our crying,
To you we send our sighs as mourning and weeping
We pass through this vale of sorrow.
Haste then we pray, O our intercessor, look with pity,
With eyes of love compassionate, upon us sinners,
And after, when this earthly exile shall be ended,
Show us your womb’s most blessed fruit, your Jesus.
O clement, O loving, O most sweet, Virgin Mary.
All was quite. The little boy appeared. His parents didn’t even know that he was out of the house, and the monastic community—wrapped in their Grand Silence—did not know that he was among them either. Gentle of step and quiet of spirit, the Little One seemed to fit into the atmosphere of the monastery on an ethereal plane.
I know that I’m only eleven years old, but I can do a lot. People tend to ignore me but I’ll show them a thing or two. Just look at these flowers. I think grown ups call them “mums.” Here they are sitting outside the garage in pots. I bet the monks and nuns are going to plant them.
They’re not too heavy, and this purple one looks so happy. Wonder where they want them. That little hill by the steps looks like its been weeded. Maybe I’ll put one in there. I know right where to go to find something to dig with. Better make it a little shovel. Might get caught with a big one.
The moon was full and bright as the Little One worked. He dug slowly and quietly and held his breath when the short shovel, normally kept in the trunk of a community car for digging out of a snow drift, scraped a rock in the earth now and then.
There. That looks good. Now what about this yellow one. Hmmmm. Maybe I’ll plant it in front of the great big cross they light up at night. Glad it’s not lit now.
The dark-haired Little One slipped across the driveway to the corner of the property which formed a natural alcove in the earth, with a wall of ground to the right and in back. The rest of the space was open and blended into the acre and a third of grounds making up the monastery property.
His hands were very strong but the earth was hard and rocky. The Little One didn’t think he could finish the job. Just then a dog barked, and then bounded out of the brush. The Little One shooed him away with his shovel. Fortunately the dog was very tame and ran off.
The gardener held his breath. Was anyone coming? After five quiet minutes he continued digging. This time it took longer to dig and plant because of the harder soil but he did it. One orange colored mum plant with tight buds glowed in the silver of the moonlight.
He tiptoed back to the garage area. This one looks like the rust on my bike. Do they think this one is pretty? Grownups! I’ll put this one out front over the septic tank opening.
The digging went very easily this time. Encouraged by his success, the Little One planted one final mum, a refreshing looking white one, to the left of the porch steps for all to see as they entered or exited the main building.
There, I helped them out. Now I’d better go. Something tells me that other people creep around here at night also. I don’t want to get caught by the monks and nuns who live here or even by those who intrude.
Now I have to risk going back inside again. Glad I found that spare key they give to guests. I hope that I can get this little red plastic shovel back into the garage without waking anybody up. The steps to the downstairs do creak some but I’m pretty light. I got it out; I can get it back in.
One loud creak froze him in his tracks. He thought that he heard someone mumble.
Maybe it’s just someone turning over while sleeping. Mission accomplished! Now I’d better get out of here while I still can.
With that, the Little One disappeared.