Vespers from the Office of the Dead by Brother Bernard Seif, SMC, EdD, DNM - HTML preview

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CHAPTER 24

 

He was up before the sun, celebrated the Office of Vigils, meditated, and spent an hour in the hotel health club on the treadmill.  Breakfast was always his favorite meal and the breakfast buffet supplied plenty of everything.  The monk made sure to eat lots of protein in preparation for his journey.  The cheese omelet melted in his mouth—which had been watering while he watched the chef prepare one just for him.

A cranberry muffin topped with honey helped the natural medicine doc rationalize that he was eating health food.  The rationalization broke down completely when he overdosed on a lemon Danish and coffee.  He rarely drank coffee, preferring green tea for both health and taste reasons.  Coffee tasted just right with pastry every now and then.  This was a “now.”  There would probably be a “then” between here and the monastery.  Airports made him hungry.  He hoped that it was not the subliminal seduction of advertising, but maybe it was.

A shower and a nap topped off the morning.  He checked out and drove the short ride to the airport, turned in the rental car, and went through security.  The monk got busted for having an apple in his backpack.  He ate it and tried again.

This time he was questioned about the Hawaiian seasoning salt he had purchased in the museum shop.  The woman in the shop had been correct.  She said he would be and he was.  Fortunately after he told them that he had seasoning salt in his luggage they permitted him to move on and into the airport.

The three flights back to the monastery blurred into one.  Brother Francis’ brain had started preparing him for re-entry.  Thoughts of their potential new postulant came to mind.  He so admired Clare’s powerful intuition, probably a byproduct of her hearing challenge.  When he saw her use her sign language, which was rare, his mind would drift back to graduate school at Catholic University of America, where some of his graduate training had taken place.

Gallaudet University was not far from CUA, both institutions providing quality education for many years in the District of Columbia.  CUA had one of the oldest psychology departments in the country; Gallaudet specialized in education for hearing-impaired students.  The monk visualized the many classes he attended in which Gallaudet students and companions would sign the words of the professor to one another. 

He also remembered the many Friday evening charismatic prayer meetings held at CUA.  About five hundred people would fill a campus auditorium and praise God for several hours.  Gallaudet students would sign the words of the lively guitar-accompanied hymns as people sang.

Yes, Clare might well fit in with the monastery.  Yet he had an intuition that she was presently feeling unsettled about things.  Some of that is natural, but something else seems to have happened.  He would soon find out.

Brother Francis traded in the crunch of sand under his feet for the crunch of snow under his boots.  He had returned to his monastery of profession in Pennsylvania.