Lucerna Votum

Jim rights himself

Date: 01/02/2018 Time: 12:30 EST	Saint Andrews Catholic Church, Fort Worth, Texas by God
Cast: Jim Storyteller: Jim
A lanky Cuban man steps into the church. College student, wearing a college t-shirt, cargo pants, and a silver class ring. However unserious his appearance though, his behavior is grave. He steps up to a bye altar to the side, lights a tea candle, and kneels down. Eyes closing, head bowed, he quietly prays. After a couple minutes of prayer, he steps up, inhales deeply through his nose, and approaches the priest, who is seated on a pew, checking his notes. "Father Jose," he greets quietly, unable to keep a faint smile from his face, as the student sis. "James," the old Texican priest grins, with a faint Mexican accent. "Glad to see you in town." "Can we talk? I see you're busy..." "Of course. Come, follow me. Care for some coffee?" The priest then stands, leading Jim down the nave, out, and across a short walk to his study. Once there, he offers Jim a seat, and pours a mug of coffee.. "Thank you father. I'm sure my parents told you, but I Transferred to West Texas A&M to do their distance program, because I felt called to go to Detroit, to help some people who badly need help." He sips slowly the black coffee. Father Jose settles in, pouring plenty of milk into his own coffee. Stirring, he hums. "That's a serious thing to say, James. But, go on." "I know it sounds arrogant Father, but... it's real. I felt it. But... yes. There are some bad men in Detroit, a gang, who are making trouble in the parts of town where the law doesn't go anymore. Measure something or other." Sip. "I was standing watch on the roof of an apartment building, because we knew they were going to meet and do something. I didn't know what." Jim pauses, and closes his eyes a moment, shivering. "Before I knew what was going on, I watched a man get murdered, and I coudln't do a thing about it." Father Jose nods, letting Jim take his time. The stirring of his mug continues to clink quietly. "My problem is..." Jim pauses to keep from breaking down. Inhaling sharply, tensing up. "I.." He scoffs. "If I tried to save him, it would have been a suicidal act. But I feel guilty anyway, that I left alive, and he didn't. They lured him there to murder him. His name was Marshal." Father Jose finally stops stirring his coffee, and sets it aside. "You're very wise in how you've explained that, Jim. I think you understand perfectly. I usually have men and women come to me like this, when they've come home from war. You're sounding, and acting, like a combat veteran." He rests a hand on Jim's knee. "Are you sure you're alright? Are you mixed up in something?" Jim smiles weakly. "I swear to you Father, that I am not involved in anything evil, illegal, or bad. I'm helping a teen community center. And I met a woman. I think she's willing to join the Church, too. She met my parents over Thanksgiving." Father Jose snickers. "That they told me. I'll pray for you, Jim, and for Monday, and for Marshal. That's what you need from me. The rest will come from God. Vaya con Dios." He then gets up, and grabs Jim into a big hug. Jim gets up, his coffee gone, and finds himself wrapped in a hug. He gulps, and then laughs, hugging the priest back. "Thank you. Enviado soy de Dios."