Friday, February 22, 2008

Cloud 8

No such day or miracle happened, of course. From the first priest who held my mom's hand in the first hospital room to the last in the last, disease took its own course, unabated by any torrent of words or holy water. The priests and preachers (even a rabbi once) delivered their words in the unequivocal form of a promise, and when that promise was so clearly not fulfilled, it seemed that each had a ready-made explanation handy for this obvious lack of results. "God works in mysterious ways," etc.

from Cloud 8
by Grant Bailie
Ig Publishing, 2003

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