EXCERPTS FROM

“SONG OF THE STORM WINDS”

AN EPIC NOVEL BY

IVAN ERICKSON

 

CAST OF CHARACTERS IN THE FOLLOWING EXCERPTS:

 

Narrator.

Michelle Marie Marcell… a rich, aspiring young operatic Soprano from Bordeaux.

Gianni Corelli… Italian transfer student to the Univ. of Notre Dame, from Rome, Italy, who becomes the driving, spiritual force for the Fighting Irish football team, both on and off the field.

Maeve Kelly… Kecia Kelly’s Grandmother.

Kenneth Kelly… Kecia Kelly’s Grandfather.

Father James J. Madigan, President of the University of Notre Dame.

 

Memo: The following excerpts from my novel have been revised, with a narrator and the names of the characters speaking inserted above. Please visit my other pages on this site to read and comment on my essays, or to order my novel in paperback or in Kindle Book Digital via my direct links to amazon.com.

 

                              *                              *                               *

 

[NARRATOR]:

 

[The hero, Gianni Corelli, a handsome, outspoken transfer student – from a Cattólico Universitá in Rome, Italy – to the Univ. of Notre Dame – has quickly become a dynamic, spiritual force both on and off the field for the Fighting Irish football team. In this excerpt, Gianni is at his rental home in South Bend, Indiana, when he receives a phone call from his girl friend, Michelle Marie Marcell, who is currently at home at her family chateau near Bordeaux, France, over the Thanksgiving Holidays. Michelle is a student at a Universite in Paris, is a rising young, beautiful opera star who has been staying with her cousin, Kecia Kelly in South Bend, and who is currently taking the semester off in order to perform in a series of operatic concerts with her troupe in America. Michelle met Gianni through her cousin Kecia, who, like Gianni, is also a student at Notre Dame.

 

EXTRACT # I: FROM VOLUME I, CHAPTER 18, PAGES 512 – 520:

 

[NARRATOR]:

Sunday morning of the next day, Gianni was at his desk in the den, working on his assignments.  Outside, the day was cold and sunny.  The storm had blown its way on through sometime during the previous night – in time for the snowplows to get out and clear the snow and ice off most of the main streets and throughways in South Bend – so that he had been able to drive to St. Joseph’s for mass earlier that morning.  Outside the window near his desk, he could see the sun’s rays reflecting off the snow in the neighborhood, in a dazzling display of pure celestial whiteness.  Children were laughing and shouting to one another as they played in the snow. 

His mind quickly played back a series of nostalgic memories of other days in the snow and the sun, from his various experiences in other countries and continents around the world.  Many of the memories evoked sadness, rather than nostalgia.  His phone rang – sending his memories back to be stored in the recesses of his mind from whence they had come, to be recalled again at some future time – as he came out of his reverie and picked up the phone:

[GIANNI CORELLI]:

 “Gianni speaking.”

[MICHELLE MARIE MARCELL]:

“Oh Gianni, thank God that you are home.  I so desperately need to speak to you.”

[GIANNI]:

“Michelle?  Magnified indeed is the quintessence of the precious voice of a special one from afar, to the one to whom she speaks!  Is it truly you, or has one of God’s special angels somehow obtained my unlisted number?”

[MICHELLE]:

“Yes, it is me, you nut!  Were you expecting another lady to call?”

[GIANNI]:

“Not really.”

[MICHELLE]:

“I do not know what is the matter with me, Gianni.  I saw you just three days ago, but already it seems that I have been away from you longer than at any time since I have known you.  I miss you so very much.  Do you miss me also?”

[GIANNI]:

“Of course, I do.”

[MICHELLE]:

“You do!  I am elated to hear you say that to me, Gianni.  The fact that you miss me will make it so much easier for me to speak to you of how much I miss you also.  It would have meant so much to me if you could have cut a couple of your classes on Friday morning to see me off on my flight.  I was lonely for you even then, as I bid goodbye to Kecia and Kathryn and then boarded my flight.  I missed you during my entire flight from South Bend to New York City.  I missed you during my entire flight form New York City to Bordeaux.

I was so happy that I kept one of the eight by ten photos of you with me on the flight.  I had put all of the other pictures that I have of you and me, as well as the other photos that we took, in my luggage that was in the baggage compartment of the plane.  I took it out of my travel bag and held it in my lap.  It looks like a special work of art in that platinum picture frame that I bought for it.  I wished that the portrait were really you and that you were right there beside me on the plane, so that I could be in your arms for the entire flight!  One of the flight attendants came by and asked if she could see the portrait.  She looked at it and said that you were one of the most handsome men that she had ever seen.  She commented that I was very fortunate to have such a handsome husband.  I told her that we were not married.  She then asked if you were an actor. 

A man sitting across the aisle from me saw the picture in the flight attendants hands and exclaimed, ‘That’s Gianni Corelli, the football player from Notre Dame, isn’t it!?’  I answered him that it indeed was.  Then, I could scarcely believe it, but about half of the passengers on that 747 asked if it were really you and pleaded with me to let them see the portrait.  I did not wish to let the portrait out of my hands, because it was so special to me.  I did not even wish to share your image with those strangers.  But, reluctantly, I passed it to the man across the aisle that had first recognized that it was of you.  I did not get the portrait back again for almost half an hour, as it was passed from one person to the next.  The people were all buzzing about you, like a whole hive of excited bees.  I could not believe that so many people knew who you were – even Europeans.  They recognized you from watching your ball games on TV and from seeing your pictures in sports magazines.  They were all so excited about you and wanted to know all about you – people of all ages, grandmothers, grandfathers, mothers, fathers, young men and women, even little children.  They spoke of you as if you were the most special person that they had ever heard of – like you were their hero. 

I was very proud, because I was special to those people too, when they learned that I knew you personally.  I was also a little jealous, because I am a rising diva, who has sung in some of the best theaters and opera theaters in France and America and yet not even one of those darn people knew who I was, even after I told some of them my name.  Anyway, when I got the portrait back, I cleaned the glass and frame with some tissues and again held it in my hands.  I was so lonely for you, I felt as if I was going to cry.

Today was the day that Mario came to see me, you know.  He ended up leaving earlier than he had planned.  Do you know why?  It was because I could not get you out of my mind.  I could not concentrate on what anyone was saying, as my Aunt Louise, Mario, my mother and father and my little sister, Monique, all sat and talked in our chateau here today.  After I had embarrassed Mario by not hearing what he had said to me for about the umpteenth time, he asked if he could speak with me alone.

We went outside and strolled together in silence on the spacious grounds outside our chateau, amongst the late fall flowers, trees, shrubs, statues and fountains.  He finally came right out and asked me what the hell was the matter with me.  He was angry.  He said that he did not wish to waste his time talking about my future concerts with me, if I could not at least be courteous enough to pay attention to him.  I told him that I was sorry and that I did not feel well and that perhaps it would be best if we talked together at some future date.  He bid me a very caustic farewell and departed immediately.

I told everyone in the chateau that Mario had left unexpectedly and that I was going for a walk on the paths that lead through our vigne and that I wished to be alone.  I walked by myself the rest of this afternoon.

It is evening now, of course.  I spent the whole afternoon, thinking of only you and me.  Your handsome face and your masculine physique continued to drift in and out of my mind, as the waves continue to roll onto the shore and then roll back out to the sea again.  Since returning to my room, I have been musing about the things of which I was thinking during my afternoon walk.  Everything that I looked at as I walked through our picturesque vigne appeared so much more beautiful to me.  The partly cloudy sky was more azure.  The sun was an aura of celestial brilliance.  The late, fall flowers were brighter, their perfume more fragrant then I had ever experienced before.  The landscape was iridescent in the alternating bright light of the sun and in the shadows of the clouds.  The songs of the birds, as evening came, were a symphony of ethereal splendor – I felt as if the angels of heaven were singing especially for me.

I could not eat dinner tonight.  I excused myself and said that I wished to be alone.  I have been lying on my bed in my nightgown, thinking only of you.  I am playing music on my stereo, but even the joyous music seems sad to me, because you are not with me.  The beautiful duet, “Presentation of the Rose”, from Act II of Der Rosen Kavalier, by Richard Strauss, is playing just now.  Your portrait is on the nightstand, next to my bed.  I am propped up on some pillows, clutching another pillow to my bosom, wishing that it were you in my arms, instead.

Sleep has not come easily since I have arrived here.  The hours of each lonely night pass by slowly, as I reverie only of you.  The rising of the sun at dawn touches the landscape with a magical brush – that produces those subtle shades of light and shadow that only God can create and which no artist has ever captured fully on his canvas.  It is at the rising of the sun that my reverie of you finally fades from my mind, as I drift off, finally, into restless sleep.  And, as I sleep, clutching a pillow to my breasts, your enchanting image and the memories of the ecstasy of your spirit – that has enraptured the spirit within me with an ardent, euphoric, mesmerizing, electromagnetic vibrato – drifts back into my mind and into my dreams, to replace the image of you that only seemingly moments ago faded from my reverie.  I awaken later in the morning, feeling languid because of lack of sleep and then the memory of my dreams of you fade from my mind like a vapor, to be replaced again by my reverie of you.

You are still with me throughout the day, with each beat of my heart, with each breath that I take, with each sip of wine, with each morsel of food, and with each step that I take – as I wander around our chateau or out on the adjoining grounds, or as I walk the paths of our vigne.

Now, as I lie upon my bed, I hear the whispering of the breeze that tickles the dry, dead leaves of the trees outside my window.  The whispering of the wind in the leaves is as ethereal as your melodic, tenor voice.  But, listen intently as I can, I cannot fathom a single word of your gentle whispering, which I hope is only for my ears alone and not for any other woman in the whole world.  What are the words that you are whispering to me in the subtle caressing of the wind, in the leaves outside my window just now, my beautiful Gianni – that tickle my ears and set my whole being in vibrato?”

[GIANNI]:

“Hmm.  I think that I must be whispering to you that you should get yourself some pure melatonin at your local health food or nutrition store for your sleeping problem.  That is, you should take melatonin, unless you have a serious insomnia problem – for which in that case, you should see your doctor.”

[MICHELLE]:

“What?!  You big ass!  I have poured out the words of what I am experiencing in my heart and soul because of you.  And I ask you what you are whispering to me and your only consoling words are that I take some kind of a sleeping pill?!”

[GIANNI]:

“I apologize, but I am serious.  Melatonin is a neurohormone and an antioxidant that helps regulate the circadian rhythms.  It should solve your sleep problems and you will not feel any of the lingering effects the next morning, as you may with regular sleeping pills.  Also, melatonin is widely used by people who fly a lot, because it helps reduce jetlag.”

[MICHELLE]:

“Thanks for the help!  We are going into Bordeaux tomorrow, I will pick some up then.  But, I still think that you are a big ass for not telling me what the gentle breezes of your voice are whispering to me, in the quivering, dry leaves outside of my window.  Please tell me, oh inspiration of my song!  I must know!”

[GIANNI]:

“Well, if you must know, I will acquiesce to your wishes, though the whispered words may not tickle your ears, nor set your heart and soul in vibrato.  They are speaking thus:

You are as beautiful to behold as the majestic white moon that glides mysteriously across my sky at night.  But then, the moon either disappears below the horizon in the west or fades from my view with the dawning of the sun. 

You are the rapturous, haunting image of loveliness that I espy as I walk through the desert of life.  I gaze upon the dancing shape of the loveliness that is you, in the rising, dancing vapors.  But as I approach you, the mirage fades away – leaving me only with the burning sand and the torturous sun under the empty skies of my world. 

You appear to me as a kaleidoscope of multicolored leaves on the trees in the fall. I depart and return a short time later and the winds have blown the majesty of the tableau vivant that was you from the trees.  And you are gone again. 

You appear again to me, as the majestic panorama of an alpine vista – with leas covered in verdant beauty and the subtle shades of multicolored, exquisitely rare and delicate wild flowers.  I look away for only a moment, lest I be blinded by the rapturous vision upon which I have sated my poor eyes.  But when I look again, the vision of the loveliness that was you has dissipated, leaving only a vast vista of cold, drifting snow. 

You appear to me at night, as the vast, mysterious wonder of the countless, twinkling stars in the sky.  But again, with the dawning of the sun, you quickly vanish from my view, as if you never had been.

On occasion, you have materialized in my presence as a real and vibrant woman, rather than as a mirage, image, or vision that fades from my view.  It is at these times, for the very short time that you are near me – sitting close to me with your arm entwined around mine, or when you are embracing me, kissing me with your soft, supple, moist lips, with your soft face pressed against mine – that I feel for a fleeting moment that you are real, that you are not a fading image in the distance… a fading star.  It is at those fleeting, rare moments that you are near me, or kissing me, that I am most aware of the quintessence that is you: your naturally curly, raven tresses, which fall in sheens of luster over your pretty shoulders to the small of your back; your large, green eyes from which the aura of your soul shines forth, casting an esthetic glow about your countenance, highlighting the soft light and shadows of your rosy cheeks; your red lips, your eye shadow, your dimples, and the pulchritude of your lovely form.

But alas, even during these rare moments, when you are physically near me, while we are kissing one another and you are in my arms, then too, you began to fade from my sight.  You dissipate in my arms and like the image, the mirage, the vision of afar, you disappear – you are gone.  Only the essence of your perfume which lingers on my clothes and in the air, tell me that you were truly with me, even if only for a fleeting moment.  Like the silent moon and the twinkling stars that fade at dawn; like the mirage of your loveliness that fades away in the desert; like the kaleidoscope of multicolored leaves in the fall, that are gone with the wind; like the panoramic alpine vista that becomes a white, drifting snow, you continue to be with me only for a few, brief moments.  Then you fade from my view and alas, are gone.  You are off to perform in a concert, to dance with me only to leave with another man, or to fly off into the azure sky returning to your home in France.

So you see, my evanescent French diva with the voice of the spirit, that is what the wind is whispering to you as it tickles the trembling leaves, outside the window of your elegant chateau – outside the castle to which the princess has fled, to fade from my vision once again.”

[MICHELLE]:

“Ah, Gianni, the allegory of your words has brought tears to my poor eyes, oh inspiration of my song.  What you have said is true.  We have spent only evanescent moments together, but in truth, you must admit that this has not been entirely my fault, you see.  Yes, I do have obligations that take me away at times, such as my prescheduled concerts and my trip here to France, to be with my loved ones.  The time I left you in New York City, with Mario, Kecia and another guy, I am not even going to get into now.  I have already explained my motivation for wanting to talk with him, so we are going to put a lid on that little cocklebur that seems to be stuck to your butt; do you hear me?

Yes, I do have my obligations that have taken me away from the ecstasy of your arms.  But so also do you have your obligations, which have rent you from my embrace, thus rending the fibers of my poor heart and soul.  Have you forgotten your football games out of town?  Have you forgotten about your studies that never seem to allow us but a few brief moments at the Huddle together?  And damn you, you even cheat me out of those few brief, precious moments – because you are constantly with that bitch, Juliet, whom Kecia and I think quit her cheerleader obligation simply so that she can cling to you at all times, like a cheap pair of nylons.  Do you not agree that you are as much or more at fault than I, for our all too brief and infrequent times together?”

[GIANNI]:

“You can put a lid on the Juliet Schaffer phobia.  She is spending very little time with me as of late.  She has become very close to Pete Pendleton.  She told me that they were going to the dance at the U. here last night.  As for the obligations that you attested that we both have, I disagree with you on that point of contention.  A man has obligations – a woman’s obligation is the man.  Do you see?”

[MICHELLE]:

“First of all, I must say that my heart leapt for joy when you told me that Juliet is spending a lot of time with Pete now.  You must know that I was deeply concerned about what your relationship with her really was.  As for a ‘woman’s obligation being the man’, I think that I had better set you straight on that fallacy right now, Mr. farm boy Corelli.  My obligation is my professional career as an operatic singer.  If you think that I am going to sit docilely at home, sipping herbal tea and tending to a bunch of kids, while my husband is flying around the country, getting his brains beat out playing professional football, just to make the big bucks, you had better guess again.  Single or married, my professional career is going to come first.  And whomever I marry is going to know that fact and succumb to my demands prior to putting a ring on this lady’s finger.  Do you understand what I am saying?”

[GIANNI]:

“You are marrying a professional football player?”

[MICHELLE]:

“I… I was just using that as a figure of speech.  Or maybe I was getting ahead of things here, I am not sure.  Anyway, I want you to agree right now that you understand what I am demanding, so that we do not have to go through this argument again.  Okay?”

[GIANNI]:

“Why do you wait until you are thousands of miles away before we have one of the longest conversations that we have had, to date?” he queried.  “I would like you to understand something now also, oh music of the spheres.  It is important that you remember what you have heard me say more than once before, because it is of great importance to me.  You must concentrate on and direct all of your aspirations in life on those things that are spiritual, on those things that concern the hereafter, rather than on the short-term goals – the here and now, the materialistic.  Do you see?”

[MICHELLE]:

“I can see right now where this thing is taking us, oh spirit to whom my spirit sings.  I see that I am going to have to wait until I am with you again, in your arms, embracing you – using all those attributes of my feminine beauty that you so poetically professed to me moments ago, along with the scent of my perfume – to charm you into acquiescing to my wishes.  I am going to hug you and kiss you until you surrender yourself to me.  Okay?  I wish that you were here in France with me now, Gianni.  My kisses and my charms would have you begging for mercy in a very short time, I think.  Do you not agree?”

[GIANNI]:

“I guess it’s a good thing that I am not with you then.”

[MICHELLE]:

“Are you going to Kecia’s house today?”

[GIANNI]:

“She invited me, but I told her that since she invited me there for Thanksgiving, I would like to spend the extra time home today, studying and doing some chores around the house.”

[MICHELLE]:

“My little sister, Monique, just loves that portrait of you that I gave her.  The little nut has not even let us hang it on the wall in her room yet.  She carries it with her wherever she goes and keeps it on her lamp table at night.  She has a big crush on you, you know.

Anyway, we have talked for quite a spell.  I am going to phone you every day while I am here, so you had better be home!  Okay?  My aunt, parents and sister send you their love.  My heart will be counting the seconds, until I phone you tomorrow, with each ardent beat.  Until then, goodbye, oh reverie of my daytime hours, oh dream that is with me in the night, oh breeze that whispers incessantly in the trees outside my window in the darkness and loneliness of my nights.  Goodbye, my love.”

[GIANNI]:

“Give my love also to your aunt, parents and sister.  I will be anxiously awaiting your call.  Goodbye.”

*              *              *

[NARRATOR]:

[It is now Thanksgiving Day. Michelle is still at her family chateau near Bordeaux. Gianni is in South Bend at the home of Kecia Kelly]:

EXTRACT # II: FROM VOLUME I, CHAPTER 18, PAGES 520 – 537:

[NARRATOR]:

On the following Thursday afternoon of Thanksgiving day, after an ambrosial dinner comprised of seemingly endless gourmet dishes that had been prepared by Kathryn, Kecia and Kristy Kelly, everyone was seated around the family room, conversing.  Everyone had that warm, fuzzy, yet uncomfortable stuffed feeling from eating too much food.  A crackling fire in the fireplace added a warm, cheerful ambiance for the beautiful friends and family members gathered there.  Seated in the room, besides the three Kelly women – who had just finished their dishwashing and other kitchen chores – were Patrick, his parents, Maeve and Kenneth Kelly, Reverend James J.  Madigan, C.S.C., President of Notre Dame, Gianni and James Richards. James was Kecia’s fiancé who was currently attending Stanford.

Gianni had been told that Kenneth had owned the local dealership, now owned by his son, prior to retiring.  Kecia had reminded Gianni that her grandparents and Patrick and his siblings had been ‘poor as church mice’, before Kenneth and Maeve had scrimped and saved enough money to allow them to get a bank line of credit and backing from some investor friends to procure the dealership franchise.  Kenneth and Maeve had moved to the Phoenix, Arizona area after his retirement.  They were both avid golfers and the two had traveled extensively abroad.  They had known Father Madigan for several years, Gianni had been told. 

Kenneth was clean-shaven, had a full head of silver-gray hair, was slightly shorter than his six feet one inch son, was handsome and distinguished looking, had blue eyes that seemed capable of quickly sizing up the people whom he met, Gianni had thought.  He was of medium build and, unlike his son, did not have the midriff bulge.  Maeve had raven black hair streaked with gray and gentle blue eyes that reflected an esthetic glow from her pretty, smiling countenance.  She looked much younger than her years, he thought.  She had maintained her comely figure, largely because of the golf and the active lifestyle that the two led, as well as due to the supplements they took daily and the strict Mediterranean diet that the two adhered to, Gianni had been told.  The two elder Kellys had been entertaining everyone for a good share of the afternoon with colorful stories, intermingled with anecdotes regarding their most recent trip to the Far East.  They had delighted everyone there - especially with their tales and descriptions of their trip up the Yangtze River to the Three Gorges region of China.  After a lull in the conversation, Maeve spoke:

[MAEVE KELLY – KECIA’S GRANDMOTHER]:

“Father Madigan, we have told you about some of the terrible storms, grasshopper plagues, earthquakes and floods that we experienced first hand in the Far East.  Other than the scientific explanations for the disastrous weather phenomenon that is afflicting the people of the world in recent years, what other rationale can you attribute for these catastrophic storms?  Kenneth and I have even discussed curtailing our travels abroad, until things start improving - considerably.  Actually, we do not even enjoy traveling in our own country here, for the same reason.  Do you agree with the scientific explanations?”

[NARRATOR]:

The handsome, blue-eyed president of Notre Dame paused to stroke his full facial beard, before speaking:

[FATHER JAMES J. MADIGAN – PRESIDENT OF NOTRE DAME]:

“Well, there are, of course, scientific explanations for almost everything that happens in this world, as well as in our universe, Maeve.  However, we must take into account also that there is a Supreme Being, who not only created this world and this universe, but also has the omnipotence to take direct control of a single molecule anywhere in the universe – or the whole universe itself – at any time that it pleases Him to do so.  It never ceases to amaze me that so many of the intellectuals of this world believe in the power of the human mind to control and to move matter, but yet they cannot fathom the truth that there is a Supreme Being who can not only move matter, but He can also create matter out of nothingness, simply by saying His desired word.

Yes, Maeve, I do believe that there is another phenomenon involved – over and above the scientific theories concerning the increase in both the number of and in the intensity of the worldwide storms in recent times, as well as in the increase of other catastophical events.  I believe that our Almighty God, through His Spirit, is bringing about this phenomenon, to show the people of this world that He is angry with His people because of the wantonness of our sins.  He will continue to increase this punishment, through His storm winds and through other direct interventions, which have been written in the Inspired Words of His Holy Bible.  These catastrophic events, you all know, are the ‘Acts of God’.

Most of us here listened to the discourse Gianni presented to the students, faculty and parents at South High, here in South Bend recently.  Gianni quoted from the Old Testament book of Sirach, Chapter 39, verses 28 through 31, I believe.  Verse 28 states:

‘There are storm winds created to punish, / which in their fury can dislodge mountains; / When destruction must be, they hurl all their force / and appease the anger of their Maker.’i

There are several other verses in the Old Testament that attest to the same warning, which I will not quote for you – for the same reason I am certain that Gianni did not quote them.  What is this reason for not wishing to quote them?  It is to ensure, first of all, that I do not make the grave mistake of becoming a false prophet.  I do not wish to lead God’s people astray, by attempting to prophesy something that has not been given me directly, in a vision from God.  Secondly, I do not wish to have anything that I quote from the Bible, taken out of the context in which God spoke it and, thereby, lead his beloved people astray.  For those who are interested, I suggest that you seek these quotations out diligently, on your own and then seek to read and meditate on each of them in the context in which God has intended.

Therefore, I think that it should suffice to give you the one quote from Sirach that I gave you a few moments ago, to simply make my point: that God is warning all mankind to turn away from their sins and He has promised to punish us if we do not repent and reform our lives.

Also, I, like Gianni, do not know for certain if what we are experiencing in our world in these current times is the end times as prophesied in God’s Holy Bible.  I am not a prophet of God.  So, therefore, I cannot speak for Him.  I can only do for God’s people what Gianni and many other good people of God are doing in these times, that being: to warn people that we all must turn away from committing all of those sins that are against God’s Holy Will and which are not in accord with the keeping of God’s Holy Commandments, mandates, jurisdictions, laws, decrees and His holy covenants. 

Also, I, like Gianni and many other people of God in these times, wish to warn the people of this world not to make up their own set of laws and rules to follow, that are not in accord with God’s laws.  We must not follow or heed those people in this world who do not wish to adhere to every one of God’s laws – to the letter.  I warn as many of these poor souls that I can reach not to listen to or follow any of Satan’s slaves, nor any antichrist who would induce them to follow It to another gospel, belief, sect or faith that deviates in the least from even one Word of God in his Holy Bible. 

I will give you a couple of quick examples of how one word can change the entire perspective of God’s Holy Bible and thereby falsify God’s Word.  Our beloved brothers and sisters of the Islam faith are taught that Jesus Christ is not the Begotten Son of God – that God begets no one.  The definitive word here is quite obviously, ‘begotten’!  The Mormons are taught that Jesus Christ is the Begotten Son of God, but that He is not the only Begotten Son of God.  To the Mormon, consequently, Jesus Christ is only the first of a myriad of begotten sons of God in the spiritual sense.  The definitive word here is, of course, ‘only’!  Therefore, all mankind must be taught the truth.  And the truth – in Scripture – is that Jesus Christ is the Only Begotten Son of God!  Always bear in mind that the antichrist is the evil spirit that resides in all those who would deny either the Father or the Son, or who deny that Jesus Christ is the Only Begotten Son of God. 

All of you beloved people here with me this day understand that when I speak of a truth regarding another faith or religion, I mean nothing derogatory, nor do I wish to offend so much as one beloved brother or sister in any way.  I say these things that they may learn of the truth that is available for all mankind to seek and to discern.  I say these things so that the devious deceptions and snares of Satan may become manifest to all people, that we may turn away from and avoid them.  All of the pagans, Gentiles and other non-Christians throughout the ages, since the coming of Christ, have had to overcome the false ideals, worshiping rites, decrees and idols of our previous faiths and religions – before seeing and accepting the Truth and the Light of the One True God who Lives and of His Son, Jesus Christ.

Many people today are leaving not only the Catholic faith, but they are leaving other Christian faiths as well.  Some of God’s poor souls are leaving their particular Christian faith, to join another Christian faith.  Why?  Because in many instances they wish to be associated with a Christian faith, a minister, priest, or other clergymen that allows for the transgression of one or more of God’s laws with which they disagree.  They turn away from their initial faith, solely because that faith adhered to the Truth and the Light of God’s explicit teachings and Commandments and because their initial faith stated clearly that what that person is doing, or wishes to do, is a sin against God’s law.  As always, these poor souls have become ensnared by the changing of - and misinterpretations of – God’s Holy Word. 

What fools we poor humans are!  We allow Satan to dupe us in so many ways.  Many of us try to tell ourselves that if we do not learn God’s laws, we will not be held accountable for our transgressions of his Laws.  This is no more true than it would be for a person to purposefully not learn all of the laws required to drive an automobile, so that he could rationalize to himself that he would not be held accountable for not adhering strictly to the law – such as in the case of running a red light and killing another human being.  Myriads switch faiths, or become a member of a particular faith because it is more lenient, or does not regard as sin those transgressions of God’s law – such as a divorce, or abortion.  We allow ourselves to be driven by the winds, in whichever direction Satan wishes to drive us, rather than to get tough, to repent and to learn God’s laws and all of those things of which He wishes us to know – that are recorded in the Inspired Words of His Holy Bible.

Many Catholics today, especially in the Western world, are just as lax in keeping God’s Commandments as many of those poor souls of other Christian faiths.  Catholics who have been properly educated and nurtured in our faith will be held more accountable for their transgressions – because we know, or should know, God’s will.  Again, changing faiths – or the ignorance of people of any Catholic or Christian faith – will not help any of them on Judgment Day, for God’s Commandments and His Word are available and accessible to all of us of a sane mind in the free world.

I apologize for digressing from your initial question, Maeve, which was simply: ‘other than the scientific explanations for the recent weather phenomenon, what other rationale can I attribute for these catastrophic storms in recent times?’  I felt compelled to digress, in order to answer your question more fully.  If I tell people that God has promised in his Holy Bible to punish us for our sins by his storm winds, I must also give people an illustration or two of what we are being punished for.  If we tell our children when they are infants that a match, fire, or a kitchen range burner is hot and that they must not touch it, we must also explain to them what the consequences of touching something hot are – which are mainly getting burned and suffering from the pain.  Do you see?”

[MAEVE KELLY – KECIA’S GRANDMOTHER]:

“Of course I do, Reverend, and thank you for elucidating your answer for me.  However, in the future, I am going to specify that you answer any question I wish answered in 50 words or less,” Maeve chuckled.

[NARRATOR]:

Everyone in the room, including the good Father Madigan, laughed heartily along with Maeve.

[KENNETH KELLY – KECIA’S GRANDFATHER]:

“You touched briefly on two transgressions in our society that are probably the two most highly debated in modern times, Reverend,” affirmed Kenneth.  “These, of course, are divorce and abortion.  All of us here know countless people who have been involved in either one, or both, of these transgressions of God’s laws.  Do you not think that the current Catholic Church, under the leadership of Pope John Paul – who is overtly and extremely outspoken against both abortion and divorce – is the cause for some of the dissension in our Church?  Do you agree with the strong stand that he has taken against these current trends?  It would seem to me that in the light of the high numbers of both divorces and abortions in the world, especially here in the U.S., a softer, perhaps more lenient approach is necessary, in order to keep the people from rebelling.  Would a more lenient decree and a relaxing of Church canon keep more young people from falling away from the teachings of the Catholic or Christian church to which they once belonged?  Would not a more permissive approach benefit exceedingly, to deter the younger generation especially from establishing their own set of laws – their own ‘moral code’, so to speak, as a myriad of them are already doing?”

[NARRATOR]:

Father Madigan had listened intently to the words of his good friend, Kenneth, and to his questions.  When Kenneth had finished speaking, Reverend Madigan scratched his beard, as he contemplated his answer.  His eyes and countenance portrayed the grief in his heart and in his spirit – as the inspired, tenor voice of that beautiful spirit, Andrea Bocelli, was heard on the stereo singing with chorus, in Italian, the romantic, yet plaintive, ‘Sogno’ (dream), by G.  Vessicchio and G.  Servillo.  He then spoke thus:

[FATHER MADIGAN]:

“I thank the good LORD, our God and Father, that He has given the people of this modern world His beautiful saints to set the example and to speak words of wisdom to those of us who listen.  They have helped steer many of God’s people to that narrow path in life that leads us to the Gate, Jesus Christ – who, in turn, will one day lead us to his Father in Heaven.  There have been many of these saintly ones, but those that come to mind first are Pope John Paul II, Mother Teresa, Billy Graham and Martin Luther King, Jr.  If all of the people of the world would read the words, listen to the words and follow the example of these beautiful saints – along with all the words of God – we would not have the terrible afflictions of divorce, abortions, racial prejudice, poverty, starvation and unrepentant sinners that abound in this world today.

I have a story that I wish to relate to each of you here, which I sincerely believe will give all of you a greater insight into the tragedies of both abortion and divorce.

In the early morning hour of each day – when I arise to kneel and do my meditation – it is at this time when I am in the spirit, that I hear the cries of despair, loneliness, anguish and the screams and pleas for help from the children of the world – those little ones of God, who are most dear to us all.  It is at this time that I come the closest to understanding the grief that our LORD and Savior Jesus Christ underwent when He suffered the agony in the garden and his sweat became as droplets of blood.  My own heart and spirit cry out in anguish, when I hear the cries of seemingly myriads of God’s little children, wailing so pathetically and forlornly for our help, like the ethereal ‘music of the spheres’.

Years ago, when I first began to hear these cries during my meditation, I did not understand from whence they came, nor did I understand the reason for the anguish of these children.  But over a period of time, and after much prayer and meditation, I was given wisdom and understanding to help me discern the answers I so diligently sought.  It seems that the cries were coming from two distinctly separate groups of little ones – one of the living, and the other… of the dead.

It was the cries of those who were dead that I first meditated on.  These cries were the faintest to my ears and I came to understand that I only imagined these cries, because only God Himself can in actuality hear them.  But they are real, nonetheless.  These are the pathetic, soul rending cries of all of those victims of what Pope John Paul so aptly termed, ‘the slaughter of the innocents!’  These are the babes of the world who have been aborted!  The reason for the wailing, the grief, the despair and the loneliness of these poor little babes should not be a mystery to any of us here, who have experienced love. 

Once, in a dreamlike state of my meditation, the spirit of one of these precious souls appeared to me and spoke thus to my spirit:

‘In horror, anguish and in the silent screams of my soul, I was torn from my mommy’s womb… prior to the time that I had been designated to be born!  Since that tormenting moment, my wailing cries, unheard by mankind, have joined the chorus of countless others like myself, who rail in anguish all of our days and nights without end.  I wail in anguish for the same reason that the others do – because I am in darkness, whether you on earth are experiencing day or night and because I am unloved. 

I cry out to my mother and my father over and over again, asking them to tell me why they did not want me!  How could they not want me, when they did not even know me?  But my question goes unanswered and the darkness of confusion continues to enshroud my poor soul, days and nights without end.  Myriads of others like me continue to ask – “why?”  I myself am overflowing with a love, which I was destined to give to my parents, all the days of their lives – till they were laid to rest, till they were in this world never more. I wail in the darkness, because I was never allowed to see the light of day.  I will never nurse at my mother’s breast, or sit in her lap, or be in her arms, or feel her kisses on my face – as I so long to experience.  I will never learn to walk, to talk and to tell my parents how much I love them – with hugs, kisses and words all the days of my sojourn on earth.

Before I was torn from my mother’s womb… I thought that I was going to be a very special person – someone unique – to bring joy and happiness into my parents’ lives, to light up their whole day with my smile.  I have special talents, which would have made them both so very proud of me, you see.

I cry out in anguish for the brothers and the sisters that I never had the chance to get to know - the brothers and sisters with whom I would have grown up and shared in their play, their joys and their sorrows – the brothers and the sisters that I never had the chance to show my love and to experience their love – all the days of our lives without end.  I cry out in anguish for all the little friends whom I will never have – whom I was to play with, to share with, to grow up with and to love and be loved by – all the days without end.

I cry out in anguish, loneliness and despair because I will never experience falling in love and marrying that special person whom God had created to be my mate, for the children that I never will have, for the grandchildren that I will never have, for my children’s - children’s - children that I will never have, even to the thousandth generation – ’til the end of time.  Even in heaven, I will be heartbroken still, because I will not have the children or the descendants that I might have had, to take into my arms, to love and cherish for all eternity without end and forevermore.

And so, good Reverend Madigan, whose tears, love and kindness I have felt though I cannot see you… that is why I and other poor babies like me cry out in anguish, loneliness and despair all our days and nights without end.  We are in anguish and we rail in our loneliness, despair and sadness because we have all this love within us to give, but no one to bestow our love upon.  We are in anguish, because we ourselves are unloved all of our days and nights under the darkness of the sun.  I repeat, our days and nights are the same, because all is darkness to us!  We do not understand.  We do not know why we are unloved.  We were never given the chance to show our mommies and our daddies how very special and precious God has created us to be. 

So, now, in our loneliness, we will continue to cry out in the darkness, in despair – now and forever – until Jesus Christ returns at the end of time.  For it is in Jesus whom all of us poor babies will be Resurrected and carried by Him into heaven, where we will live in the love and the light of the Blessed Trinity – for all eternity without end. 

What am I to say to my mother and father, when I meet them face-to-face in the hereafter, Reverend Madigan?  I think that I will take each of them in my arms, kiss them and hug them and tell them that I still love them – and that I will love them… throughout all eternity… and forevermore.’

The precious little spirit then disappeared, as I meditated in a dreamlike state and I have not seen it since,” Father Madigan related.  “But sometimes in my meditations late at night, in the innermost recesses of my private chambers – where not even the light of the moon or the stars can penetrate, where the only light is that which comes from within me – I can still feel its precious presence and hear its lonely wails, which join in a chorus with myriads of other aborted babies, like the faraway music of the spheres, as they cry out in the darkness for the love and the life that they have been denied for all their… lonely nights… without end.”

[NARRATOR]:

Father Madigan ceased speaking at this time.  He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and covered his face with it as he sobbed audibly with tears of grief.  Everyone in the room had to reach for a handkerchief or a tissue, as they all shed their tears copiously with the good Priest.  After a short time, Father Madigan regained his composure and apologized for shedding tears in their presence, for he was quite embarrassed.  They all thanked him and gave him words of praise and love for sharing his precious experience with them.  Then, a few of them urged him to continue with his discourse, which he then did, as he spoke thus:

[FATHER MADIGAN]:

“I previously stated that the cries of the children, which I hear sometimes in my meditation in the early hours of the morning, come from two distinct groups.  I have told you just now of the source of the first group, the little lost souls of the aborted babies.  I will now tell you of the source for the second group, which are poured out from the hearts and souls of the living.  These cries for help – these cries of loneliness, sadness, despair, confusion, anguish and disillusionment – are much louder and more discernible to me.  And I hear these mournful cries not only in my meditation, but in my wakeful hours as well.  They come from the myriad of poor little souls in this country, who are the innocent victims of the parent, or of the parents, who have been divorced one or more times.  I have been involved in talking to, praying with and counseling parents and children caught up in the throes of divorce on countless occasions.  Most of these occurred before I took over as President of Notre Dame, but I still work and pray with those people, whenever I can. 

There was one particular family that came to me for help several years ago, when I was the Pastor in a city that I will not name.  I will not name the city and will use only fictitious names of these people, to protect their privacy.

One Saturday, in the fall of the year, when I was in my private office engrossed in the final preparation of my homily for that particular weekend’s masses, I was buzzed on the intercom by my administrative assistant, Kathleen, from the front office of the rectory.  She informed me that a mother, father and their four children wished to speak privately with me.  I immediately went out to the front office and was introduce by Kathleen to a young, handsome and successful appearing couple, whose names were Bill and Ruth Ann. 

Ruth Ann quickly explained that she and Bill were on their way to their place of business, which they owned and managed together.  She went on to explain that they were having problems with all four of their young children and that – against their will – the school counselors had intervened, but been unable to rectify even one of their childrens’ problems and that the children were getting progressively worse.  She explained that neither she nor her husband had been able to help the kids either, because of the long hours that they both worked – six and sometimes seven days a week – and for other extenuating circumstances. 

I asked her what sort of problems their children were experiencing.  Bill quickly answered for her that the children were all unruly, rebellious and disobedient, at both school and at home.  He also said that they fought with one another all the time and that all four of them cried a lot – even at night, after they had been put to bed.  He asked if I would talk to the children, see if I could find out what was bothering them and help them if I could.  He said that both he and Ruth Ann were presently both on medication because, between their business and the children, they were becoming nervous wrecks. 

I explained to Bill and Ruth Ann that the problem sounded very deep rooted and complex.  I suggested that they talk to a local Catholic counselor about counseling for their whole family – for both the parents and the children.  Ruth Ann quickly snapped back at me that neither she nor her husband believed in psychiatrists, that no one in the family was crazy and again asked if I would talk to the kids for awhile, as they intended to leave the children with me for a couple of hours.  I suggested that it would be best if I talked to Bill and Ruth Ann as well as the children, to best get to the root of their problems – so that I could recommend the necessary course of action for them to pursue.  Ruth Ann snapped back at me again, restating that she and Bill had to go to their place of business and just did not have the time. 

I saw that their minds were made up, so for their peace of mind, I explained to them that whenever I had private counseling sessions, or private meetings for any purpose with young people, or minors of either sex, my strict policy was that my assistant, or one of her aides, must be present at all times.  I assured them that my assistants and I were trustworthy people of God and that the names of the parents and the children were to be kept confidential.  Bill and Ruth Ann thanked me, told the children to behave, and said that they would return for the children in two hours. 

I asked Kathleen to have one of her aides take over the office and to accompany me and the children back to my private office.  When we were all seated in my office, I again told the children who I was, introduced them again to Kathleen and asked them if they would introduce themselves to us, from oldest to the youngest.  There were two older boys and two younger girls.  I asked them if they would please tell my friend and me why they fought with one another and why they cried a lot.  I assured them that they would not be in any trouble for anything that they told us and that they would not be punished in any way for anything that they said.  I told them that God loved each of them very much and wanted to help them.  The oldest boy then introduced himself and spoke thus:

‘My name is Alan.  I am 12 and one half years old.  Arlo is my sister and she and I fight with Anthony and Amy, because they always get treated better than Arlo and me.  Bill is Arlo’s and my biological dad, but Ruth Ann is not our biological mother – she is the biological mother of Anthony and Amy.  Bill is divorced from my real mom, Charlene, and he got custody of Arlo and me, so we do not get to see our real mom very often.  Ruth Ann got custody of Anthony and Amy and they do not get to see their real dad very often.  Maybe that’s why we fight a lot.  I don’t know. 

‘I don’t cry, I’m too old to cry.  I guess that Bill and Ruth Ann mean that Anthony, Arlo and Amy cry all the time – not me.  Anyway, life sucks.  I play in lots of sports.  But even though I love sports, I hate it when most of the other boys on my team have their mom and dad, or at least one of their parents at all of their games.  But neither Bill nor Ruth Ann, nor my real mom come to see any of my games.  Bill and Ruth Ann are working all the time, so that is why they can’t come to my games.  My real mom lives in another city, so that is why she never comes either.  I miss my real mom very much.  I would not even care very much if she did not come to my games, if I could just be with her more often.  She would always spend quality time with Arlo and me, before the divorce.  Arlo and I knew that she truly loved us, just by the way she talked to us, disciplined us, asked us questions about school, our friends, sports and just about everything.  Charlene always had a smile for us and treated us like we were very special, even when we were sometimes bad, or had done something that we should not have.  We knew she loved us, mostly because we could feel her love. 

Even though Bill is our dad and we love him, he never had much time to spend with Arlo and me, even before his divorce from mom.  He is always too busy with his business, golf, parties and stuff to spend any time with us.  Arlo and I are not sure that he loves us very much.  We know that Ruth Ann does not love us.  She does not even spend much time with Anthony and Amy – but at least she spends a little time with them once in a while and treats them better than Arlo and me.

I guess maybe I cry just a little bit, once in a while – when I am alone, or in bed at night.  I cry because I have a real dad, but he does not show me that he loves me in any way.  I have a real mom – who I know does love me, but she is not with me all the time to give me her love when I need it most.  I have Ruth Ann as a mother, but she does not love me at all.  I cry because my sister does not have anyone to love her either.  And I think that she needs love even more than I do, because she is only nine and she is a girl.  I cry because I don’t give Arlo the love that I know a brother should give his sister – probably because I am not loved myself – so I don’t want to love anyone else either. 

I think that I have figured out one of the real reasons why parents don’t spend much time with their kids, Father Madigan.  It’s because in most families both the moms and the dads work most of the time, because money is more important to them than their kids are.  Even though my parents pretend – like lots of parents do – that they are sacrificing and doing everything for us kids, we know that they mostly do it for their own greed.  I guess that’s about it.  Life really sucks, Father Madigan!’

The next child to speak was Alan’s stepbrother, Anthony.  He introduced himself and spoke thus:

‘My name is Anthony, I’m ten years old and I think that life sucks too, Father Madigan.  I don’t know what Alan is complaining about, saying that he does not have his mom to love him.  Ruth Ann is my mom and even though she treats Amy and me a little better than Alan and Arlo, buys us more things and stuff, I don’t think that she really loves us.  My real dad did not love Amy and me very much, even before he and Ruth Ann got divorced.  He lives in another town too and we hardly ever get to see him.  He is in sales and he is gone out of town all the time.  I think that’s probably why mom and he got divorced.

Anyway, I play in sports a lot too and I never have a mom or a dad to watch my games either, like most of the other kids do.  Bill and Ruth Ann hardly ever even bother to ask who won the game anymore, or how I did.  Sometimes I am just bursting inside to tell them when I had a real good game, made some good plays, a lot of baskets, or got several hits.  But, when they don’t bother to ask me, I don’t feel like telling them anymore, because they just don’t care.

I don’t cry much either, because boys aren’t supposed to cry.  But, when I do, it’s usually like Alan said.  It’s when I’m alone or in bed at night.  I cry because I never really had a dad, even before the divorce.  My friends and coaches always had to show me everything about sports, because dad would not even play catch with me, or shoot buckets in our driveway with me.  I cry because Ruth Ann does not show me in those special ways that she loves me, like Alan’s mom did for him and Arlo.  She never does anything special to show that she loves me, like some of my friends’ moms do, or like the moms on the TV shows do for their kids.

I cry because I think that there must be something wrong with me – because I have never had a mom, a dad, or a step-dad to love me and to do special things with me all the time, like most of my friends do.  I wish that someone would tell me what’s wrong with me, so I could try to be a better person – so that people and my mom and dad would love me.

I guess that us kids do argue and fight a lot, Father Madigan.  I don’t know why, even.  I guess it must be because we have hate inside of us, instead of love.  Like Alan said, “life sucks”, but what can we do about it?  We are just kids, you see.’

The next child to speak was Alan’s biological sister, Arlo.  She introduced herself, told me that she was nine years old and then spoke thus:

‘I miss my real mom, Charlene, so much that I don’t know how to describe the terrible hurt that I feel inside of me, Father Madigan.  I call her a lot on the phone and Alan and I take turns talking to her.  That helps a little, but it’s not the same as having her there for me almost all of the time, like before the divorce.  I miss the special way that she smiled, looked into my eyes and touched my face or brushed my hair.  I miss the special way that she treated me all of the time, even when she was tired or was not feeling very well.  I miss not having her around to give Alan and me a ride to school and to wish us a happy day.  I miss not having her there to attend some of my school functions, like band and chorus, especially when a lot of the other kids seem to always have one or both parents there.  I miss not having her there after the band or chorus performance, to hug me and tell me how proud she was of me and to tell me that I did real well.

My heart is so very sad, Father Madigan.  I cry out on the phone for my mom to come and see me, but of course she can’t – she lives too far away.  I cry out on the phone and tell her that I miss her so very much and that I have no one to love me, like her.  I hear her crying on the phone when I say this, then I feel bad for saying it.  After all, I know that she loves me and misses me just as much as I do her – or, even much more probably, because she’s a mom.’

My assistant had to give little Arlo some tissues at this point,” related Father Madigan, “as she was crying and shedding copious tears.  Kathleen gave her a hug for a couple of moments and I told Arlo that she did not need to continue speaking, if she did not feel up to it.  After a few moments, she sighed and bravely told us that she would continue speaking.  But she had to use her tissues frequently to wipe away her tears as she continued to speak, thus:

‘Well, like I was saying, Reverend Madigan, my heart always seems sad, even when good things happen to me, like in school, or at play with my friends.  I cry at night too, when I go to bed.  I cry out silently in the darkness, but the darkness hears me not.  Ruth Ann never tucks me in, even when she is at home before I go to bed.  She says ‘goodnight’, but does not even give me a hug or a kiss.  I cry out in the darkness of my bedroom, I cry out in my mind for help.  I keep praying to God to give me my real mommy back, so things will be like they were before the stupid divorce.  I ask God why He lets moms and dads get divorced, but He never answers me.  I pray to God to let Ruth Ann love me just a little bit, so I won’t miss my mommy so.  But even though I pray for this a lot, Ruth Ann does not love me even a little bit. 

Not only that, but a lot of the kids at school laugh and tease me all the time, because they say that Arlo is a boy’s name – not a girl’s.  Charlene always tells me it’s the prettiest name she ever heard and that is why she gave me the name.

What did we kids do, Father Madigan, to deserve a life like this?  What did we do that was so bad, that made God let our mom and dad get divorced, so that we could no longer have their love when we need it?  I myself do not have the answer to this, so I continue to cry out silently in the night, but no one either hears or answers.  I pray silently to God, but He answers me not.  My heart is so sad that sometimes I think that it’s going to break.  I miss mom so much – why can’t I have her with me all of the time?  Why can’t I have her love, her hugs, her kisses, her pretty face, her smile, her special ways of showing me that I am special to her, all the days of my life without end?

Is God angry with me or something, Father?  What did I do to deserve a life like this… a life without love… forever …more?’

While Kathleen tended to little Arlo’s tears, I had to leave the room for a few moments, as I felt that I was going to cry also,” related Reverend Madigan, with his eyes now welling with tears in remembrance of this sad occasion.  He again used his handkerchief, before continuing.

“When I re-entered my office, Arlo and the other three children seemed to have regained their composure.  I thanked Arlo for her special story and told her that I would try to answer her questions, as well as those of the other children, after the last of the children, little Amy, had spoken to us.  Amy was a quiet child and it took her much longer to speak than it will take me to relate her story to you now.  She introduced herself as Amy, told us that she was seven years old, that she was Anthony’s real sister and then spoke thus:

‘I don’t know why Arlo whines so much and complains about not having Charlene there for her all the time to love her and stuff.  My mom, Ruth Ann, is with me some of the time, but she sure doesn’t seem to care for me very much, even when she tells me that she loves me once in a while.

I am not only unloved, but I am also scared most of the time, Father Madigan, especially at night – when Mom and Bill are not home, which seems like most of the time.  I am scared because of the scary horror shows, space shows and other scary stuff on TV.  I am scared that we will get into a big war and will get blown up with bombs, or by terrorists.  I am scared to be home when mom and Bill are not home and we only have Anthony and Alan to protect us, in case some robbers or bad guys break into our house.  I am scared to be outside playing with friends during the day, because I am scared a bad guy might grab me and kidnap me.  I am scared of meteorites hitting us, like we see in the movies.  I am afraid of somebody shooting us at school or outside, like we see on the TV news.  I am afraid that someone might blow up our house, or our school, or like that building in Oklahoma was that I heard about in school.  I am scared of a million different things that I hear about, or see in movies or on TV – especially the cartoons with the scary monsters in them that we watch a lot.  Why don’t they show more shows with real people and real kids for us to watch, instead of all those scary monsters all the time?  I just don’t know how to stop being scared.

When I try to talk to Mom or Bill about these things that I am afraid of, they pretend to listen.  But I know that they really do not care, because they don’t try to do anything to help me not be scared, other than to tell me to stop being such a wimp.

So, Father Madigan, I not only do not have anyone to love me – just like my sister Arlo and my brothers – but I am scared all the time.  When I go to bed at night and lie in my bed, alone, with nobody to tuck me in, give me a kiss or a hug, pray with me, or help me not to be scared, I get like Arlo does – I get very sad in my heart.  I feel like screaming out loud… but I don’t.  I ask God to make this world better, so all of those terrible things stop happening, but God must not hear me – my life and the world just keep getting worse.  Those tornadoes and hurricanes that I see in the news all the time seem to be inside my head.  Why don’t they ever go away, Father, like all those storms do? 

Why is this world such a terrible place, Father?  Does God really love us, like the Bible says?  Why doesn’t Jesus come back and make the world better?  Sometimes I think that it would have been better to be one of those abortion babies.  Then I would not have to live in this terrible world, lonely, sad and with no one to love me and to be scared so much of the time… all my sorrowful days… without end.’

I realize that the story of these poor, dear children of God that I have just related, is not truly typical of a divorced family,” affirmed Reverend Madigan, with a deep sigh.  “It is probably a composite of several of the typical problems which also can be found in many of the families where the parents have never been divorced, as well as in the single parent families.  This is the very reason why I like to relate this story, even though it grieves my heart and soul deeply, every time I tell it.

Redundant it is to say that I could not help these poor, little children in our first meeting together.  I was not able to talk Bill and Ruth Ann into taking family counseling from a qualified Catholic psychiatrist, which is what I felt that they needed desperately.  I was able to talk them into meeting with me as a family, two or three times a week.  Through much prayer, discussion and reading of the Holy Scripture, I was able to bring love back into that family, through the grace of God and through faith.  Even little Amy was finally able to overcome her deep-seated fears – the storm winds of her mind have dissipated, hopefully forever.

I still maintain contact with that family as often as I can.  Bill and Ruth Ann were finally able to see the light – that those four precious children came before their business and all material things.  They began spending more time with all of the kids.  To do so they had to give up some of the profits from their business that they were earning, in order to hire a couple of extra managerial people to whom they could delegate their authority, so that they did not have to work such long hours.  They even admitted to have given up a goodly share of their social lives, that they may give the love to their children that they so needed, that they had previously denied them, because of their chase after the materialistic winds of this world.

As beautifully as this story ended for that wonderful family, there is still an underlying sadness that the children will never overcome, that of course being that none of the four children had both of their biological parents with them throughout all of their formative years.  And sadly also, neither Bill nor Ruth Ann have their original mate – their first love – with them now to spend all of their days under the sun with, to grow old together, until the end of their days on this earth, until their last sun sets in the western skies.”

[NARRATOR]:

Everyone in the room thanked Father for sharing his special stories with them.

[FATHER MADIGAN]:

“This then, is why I hear the sad, pathetic wailing of two separate groups of myriads of God’s precious children so often during my morning meditation,” Reverend Madigan continued.  “It grieves me terribly that so much needless torment, grief, sadness, despair and loneliness is suffered by so many of God’s poor little children – both the living and the dead – who cry out night and day for the love they do not have. These are just some of the reasons why the Pope and people like myself will never allow one iota of leniency concerning deviating from God’s Commandments, such as abortion and divorce, Kenneth!  The Commandment, ‘Thou Shalt Not Kill’ regarding abortion – and the Commandment ‘What God Has Joined together as one, let no man put asunder’ regarding divorce – are the Word of God and they should be obeyed to the letter.  As Gianni has stated so sagaciously, ‘God has listed no addenda to His Commandments!’”

 

*                              *                              *

[NARRATOR]:

 

[During her flight from South Bend to Bordeaux, Michelle had changed her mind about spending Saturday, Christmas Eve, with her family on their vineyard. And so – after first flying to Bordeaux and meeting with her parents and sister at the Aèroport Merignac – she had taken the next flight out for Rome, to surprise Gianni and to be with him instead. Gianni had earlier flown to Rome from South Bend on a separate flight, in order to be with his parents and to attend the funeral of his beloved friend, Maestro Tomasso Cappuccilli, of which was to be held on that following Monday. Michelle and Gianni had attended an operatic concert in Rome earlier in the evening on Christmas Eve, which was performed by the Three Tenors. And as Michelle had promised her parents that she would be home for Christmas Day, she was now flying to Bordeaux – in the middle of that same night – in a small, private, twin-engine plane, with Gianni piloting the aircraft]:

 

[NARRATOR]:

A short time later, after Gianni had guided the aircraft in a long, arcing climb out over the Tyrrhenian Sea, he then leveled the aircraft at cruising speed and altitude, adjusted the trim tabs and set a west by northwest heading.  He loosened his seat belt slightly and eased back into his seat in a more relaxed position.  She followed his example by loosening her seat belt, trying to relax in her seat also.  At the same time, she was wishing that she had listened to Gianni when he had advised her several times earlier that night not to drink so much wine, as she was feeling a little queasy.  She had, in fact, become a little tipsy at the club.  And Gianni had reprimanded her for this, while they had awaited the cab outside, after their friends had departed.  “I hope the heck that I do not get airsick and vomit,” she now thought, as she listened to the drone of the twin engines.

They flew in silence for quite some time, before she finally came out of her reverie and glanced at Gianni.  Their eyes met as he spoke:

[GIANNI]:

“Oh!  I have slipped the squirrelly blondes of earth…”

[MICHELLE]:

“What is that supposed to mean?” She queried.  “If it means that you think that you have escaped the blonde babes back on earth, you are correct!  However, do not think for a moment that you have escaped this brunette sitting beside you, my dear pilot,” she chuckled.  “Where did you get that phrase from, by the way?”

[GIANNI]:

“It is a misquote of mine from “High Flight” - a John Gillespie Magee, Jr., poem.  Have you ever heard this poem?”

[MICHELLE]:

“I am not certain.  Could you recite it for me?”

[GIANNI]:

“Sure, but first I must qualify myself by assuring you that I meant no disrespect to the composer by my misquote.  As a matter of fact, I personally believe that the Spirit inspired him when he composed it. 

Flight Lieutenant Magee was the son of American missionaries to China.  I am not certain of his parent’s names.  He composed “High Flight” while flying at an altitude of thirty thousand feet above England.  Shortly after this, at the age of nineteen, he was killed while serving with the R.C.A.F. His inspired poem is as follows:

‘Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth

and danced the skies on laughter silvered wings;

sunward I’ve climbed and joined

the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds;

and done a hundred things you have not dreamed of –

wheeled and soared and swung high in the Sunlit silence,

hov’ring there, I’ve chased the shouting wind along

and flung my eager craft through foot-less halls of air.

Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,

I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace

where never lark, or even eagle flew –

And, while with silent lifting mind

I’ve trod the high untrespassed sanctity of space,

put out my hand and touched the face of God.’”ii

[MICHELLE]:

“That was so beautiful!  I think that you are correct.  He had to have been inspired to write something as soul piercing as that poem!”

[NARRATOR]: She loosened her safety belt a little more, so that she could lean closely to him and entwined her arms around his free right arm and sighed, before asking:

[MICHELLE]:

“What were you and Basil doing while I was changing clothes back at the hanger?”

[GIANNI]:

“He basically came along with me to converse while I conducted the pre-flight inspection on this Cessna.”

[MICHELLE]:

“What were you inspecting it for?”

[GIANNI]:

“Each pilot is responsible to inspect his own aircraft prior to each flight.  It is little more than a cursory check off list, as there is little one can see, without pulling the cowling and inspection panels off, or crawling inside the fuselage.  I visually checked the fuel tanks to ensure that the tanks are full.  I checked the tires, struts, rudders, trim tabs and flaps.  I opened small inspection panels to inspect cables, checked for fuel and hydraulic leaks.  I checked to ensure that both engines were attached, et cetera.”

[MICHELLE]:

“Sure you checked to see if both engines were attached!” she laughed.  “Gianni, when and where did you learn to fly?  You have surprised me so many different times and in so many ways in the short time that we have known one another.  You never talk much about yourself.  And neither do any of your friends, by the way – including your three universita friends whom I met tonight and Basil – all of whom I did everything I could to eke even an iota of information out of, to no avail.  They all say the same thing – that no one really knows much about Gianni Corelli.  I could just kill them when they say that!  You and all of your friends comprise a very esoteric clique, I must say.”

[GIANNI]:

“Most probably they all find me to be too boring to have much to say about me.”

[MICHELLE]:

“I am sincere in what I am saying, even though you are not.  Everything that I learn about you is like a revelation to me, because of your modesty and your laconism.”

[GIANNI]:

“Such as when you and Kecia learned that I spoke French?”

[MICHELLE]:

“Yes, that too, you…  I still owe you for that little ruse!  Boy, I still cannot recall all of the naughty things that Kecia and I spoke of in French when we were with you, before you spoke in French to Aunt Louise at Kecia’s house.”

[GIANNI]:

“I recall everything that you both said and yes, some of the things that the two of you said were quite naughty and some of the things that you both said were…  Well, I will not say what they were.”

[MICHELLE]:

“Some of the things that I said about you were very cruel, you were going to say.  Yes, I must confess that they were in fact cruel and I apologize for all of those thoughtless, and callous words that I spoke, oh voice that whispers to me through the trees outside my bedroom window at night, in my silent, wakeful hours of loneliness and tears.  I do not mean to hurt you in any way, when I say the foolish words that I speak.  It is just… that you are so headstrong and you rarely do anything that I ask you to do.  I am used to having my own way, you must understand.  And you have been so frustrating to me, you see.”

[GIANNI]:

“I cannot begin to fathom or to visualize the magnitude of the total beauty that you will one day possess, when you become that precious treasure trove who possesses an inner beauty which equals your outer pulchritude.  By the way, in answer to your question, I started learning how to fly when I was nine years old.  I used to fly in the copilot seat with my beloved friend, Giorgio Giaotti, before we departed on our world travels.  Even for those three years that I traveled with him and Fiorenza, he still chartered or rented a helicopter or a twin engine aircraft similar to this one whenever we needed to travel to the more remote areas, or when we were in a hurry to get to an area that was inaccessible due to fires, floods, earthquakes and so on. 

When I first started flying, I was not allowed to takeoff or land.  I simply took over the controls when we were airborne.  It was in India that I first soloed at the age of ten.  When I had the time, I learned many of the more rigorous and intricate facets of flying from the reading of manuals and other technical materials that Giorgio made available to me.”

[MICHELLE]:

“See what I mean!  You just talked about something personal for one of the longest periods of time that you have done so since I have known you.  And, you still did not tell me a thing about you, personally, except that you learned to fly.  You told me nothing of your inner feelings or anything else that would enable me to know you better.  I want to know who this person is, he who has engulfed me within the electromagnetism of the quickened light of his beautiful soul.  Do you see?”

[GIANNI]:

“I truly do understand what you are saying.  I would say that there are countless human relationships in which neither person completely ever knows the other, even though they may spend the good part of their lifetimes with one another.  These include, but are not limited to: fathers and sons, husbands and wives, mothers and daughters, brothers and sisters and so on.  This has been especially true in these current tumultuous times, when so many extraneous and trivial matters seem to bombard the lives of those myriads who allow them to do so and that seem to occupy a major portion of so many peoples’ free time.  People simply do not have the time, or in many cases just do not take the time, to converse with one another – to really get to know, understand and thereby, love one another as we should.”

[MICHELLE]:

“The only characteristics that I have learned about you so far have been acquired through the conversations you have had with our friends and my relatives at Kecia’s home, or from listening to you speak about religion, continence, et cetera, at one of your convocations,” she reminisced wistfully.  “We have been together several times, but it seems that Kecia or several others are invariably with us.  Today is the first time that we have had the opportunity to be alone, to talk together as we are doing now.  I presume… what I am attempting to convey to you, dearest Gianni, is that I desire so much to know as much as there is to know about you.  When someone asks me anything about you at a future time, I want to be able to expound on an answer to their question for hours, if possible, and not have to say with an apologetic look that, ‘One knows so very little about Gianni, you see,’ – like all the other poor souls who claim to know you.  Therefore, I want to be with you every opportunity that I have to do so – for the balance of my days!  Do you understand what I am saying?”

[GIANNI]:

“Not really!  The reason that I answered as I did is that you have already explicitly told me on more than one occasion that your operatic career comes first in your life and that you sincerely intend to dedicate most of your time in the pursuit of this endeavor.”

[MICHELLE]:

“I will find a way then, to persevere in my quest for my career and still be with you as often as possible.  After all, my music will not take up so many hours of my day that I will not have time to spend with you also.  The problem is the fact that my profession calls for a great amount of traveling, which you are already aware of.  I do not know, at this time, how we are going to schedule our lives in order to have time to be together, dearest.  But there has to be a solution to the dilemma. 

I have reflected on the idea, more than once as of late, that one excellent way for the two of us to be together would be for you to learn how to play a musical instrument.  You are so intelligent and talented that you can do anything you set your heart on.  I would have Mario pull some strings and we could travel together to our concerts.  This is only one solution to our problem for us to brainstorm.

I… think that this is an opportune time and place for me to confess how I truly feel about you, dearest inspiration of my song – in spite of the fact that the magnitude of the splendor of my ardor for you is beyond my capability to explicitly put into words that which my heart wants to say to you, you see.  You must know how I feel about you emotionally, even though I have never spoken the words that my heart has yearned so passionately to convey to you – except in innuendos.  The sky is so wondrously clear on this night of splendor!  The stars are twinkling so mysteriously and brightly – as if they are trying to convey to the people of this world a coded message of love from God. 

Up in the heavens with you this night, they seem closer and more radiant than they ever have appeared to me before – even more so than on my many skiing trips with my family to the Alps, I must confess!  I would love so much to fly to some distant planet with you, to land there and to be together on a deserted, sandy ocean shore for as long as we desired to stay, my dearest Gianni – you who have quickened the essence of my inner being, my very soul, from the very first moment that I met you.”

[NARRATOR]:

Michelle paused for a few moments in reflection, as she searched her mind for the appropriate words she wished to articulate to him – words that would penetrate into the epicenter of his very electromagnetism - to please him - as she desired so much to do.  As she was thinking thus, their eyes met.  His countenance expressed the urgency that she had inspired within his total being, to hear the precious words that she was about to speak.  Her demeanor changed from contemplative, to an aura of beauty personified, as she transmitted what she was feeling for him with a resplendent smile.  Mysteriously, at that moment, though neither of them admitted the fact to the other at that time, the drone of the twin engines became only a whisper.  In place of the engine noise, they heard the inspired, rhapsodic symphonic rendition of Wagner’s “Act I Prelude” to “Lohingrin”, as it ebbed and flowed from a source which they did not know - though both silently conjectured that it could only be the music of the spheres, because of its celestial essence.  The rhapsodic strains continued for several minutes, inspiring her to speak the words she had so ardently searched for.

[MICHELLE]:

“When Kecia and I were in my San Francisco hotel room together, at the time of my concert, as we watched your football game on TV, I told her of the ecstatic feelings that I had experienced since the moment we met.  I related to Kecia as explicitly as I was able – you must bear in mind that I was attempting to convey something of an extremely complex and abstract nature – how I had felt when you and I danced together at that club in New York City on that enchanted night of love and ecstasy.  I related to Kecia that when I was in your arms dancing with you, I felt as if an ethereal electromagnetism, a power of love, light and quickening, was surging from your innermost being. 

I attempted to explain to Kecia that this electromagnetic current seemed to emanate from your being, to merge with and permeate the very essence of the energy and force that I could feel flowing from my heart and soul.  This great surge of power flowing from the essence of our beings melded together in the ambiance about us and our auras became as one.  The ambiance in that entire room virtually crackled with the quickening of the power of light and love in which we were totally engulfed.  To further sate my ecstatic being, an ambient aromatherapy of lemon and exotic wild flowers wafted into my olfactory senses, carrying me into a surreal state of semi-consciousness. 

I do not need to ask you.  I know in my heart that you were experiencing the same thing that I was!  I must confess that I did not tell this to Kecia at the time, but I had thought once while we danced that if someone had turned off all off the lights, no one would have realized it, because the quickened light radiating from the oneness of our auras would have illuminated the entire room – possibly even more brilliantly than before! 

I could not begin to describe to Kecia at that time in San Fran – nor can I describe to you now – the rapture that permeated every fiber of my heart, mind, body, soul and spirit as I danced with you.  I can only say that my entire being was in vibrato, from the quickening within me, and the aura of our combined magnetism carried us out of that building – we soared high amongst the stars somewhere in a heavenly bliss of exotic euphoria.  I was whirling round and round in your arms in a blissful trance, high in the mysterious realms of the heavens.  The music of the spheres were playing the same rhapsodic music of Wagner that I hear at this very moment – music that seemed to ebb and flow with the twinkling of the heavenly bodies that surrounded us.  I became so sated with rapture, that I verily sensed that if so much as one more spark of the energy of this quickening light were to permeate my being, I would burst and would be viewed from earth as a vast nebular, eternal light in the heavens.  I also had a counter thought that because of the intensity of my ecstasy, if only one more spark of energy were to permeate the aura of the mystic trance in which I was engulfed, I would be as an electrical system hit by a mega-power surge.  My rhapsody would be transformed into an unbearable, excruciating burning pain and anguish, I thought.

My life, since meeting you, has been filled with the ebb and flow of this same, wondrous bliss all my days and nights without end, my beloved Gianni.  I say ebb and flow, because the symphony of the rhapsody within my being is sometimes in decrescendo and sometimes in crescendo – but it is constantly there, though I am not always consciously aware of it.  The surreal, mystical trance is most intense, of course, whenever I am with you, such as now.  I… I will now attempt to articulate those words I have longed to say to you.”

[NARRATOR]:

She paused again for a few moments, staring off into the glory of God’s skies, then turned towards him with green eyes bathing her countenance in a soft glow of esthetic light, as she spoke thus:

[MICHELLE]:

“Ah, Gianni, light of my eyes, inspiration of my song in the spirit, you are the lodestar onto which my heart is affixed…

You are the lodestone that would draw me quickly to you, even though light years of distance separated us…

You are the lotus fruit from which I eat that puts me into a dream state, a hypnotic trance in which I forget all else but you…

You are the pomme d’ amour of my eyes.  You are the Daphnis who composes indelibly on my heart, love poetry of my rustic, beloved homeland…

You are the citadel that surrounds my poor heart, which holds my love captive from near or afar…

You are the passe-partout who is able to unlock the love in my poor heart and who allows my love to flow only to you…

You are the perpetual object of my oeillade, from which I am unable to turn away…

You are the amorous power that had magically awakened the love that had lain dormant within me since my birth…

Ah, Gianni, voice that whispers through the trees outside my chateau window during the wakeful hours of my nights, you are the dynamism of the force that has inspired the renaissance of my song in the spirit…

You have become the theme song, the tempo with which the beat of my poor heart is attuned and to which it beats an accompanying love duet…

You are the arrow who is able to pierce my tender heart with a mere stern look… you are the Asclepius who is able to heal my wounded heart with your rapturous smile…

You are the cabernet sauvignon of Bordeaux that produces the wine of which I quaff in an exotic ecstasy and who intoxicates my mind and my heart in a euphoric, fantasia of love and pleasure… 

Your lips are the embouchure of an enchanted musical instrument on which my tender lips desire to play a rhapsody of love… the blue fire of your eyes emblaze my total being and carry us to an elysian, from which I desire never to return…

Your voice is as the tintinnabulous tinkling of chimes of joy to my senses… chimes that tremble in the breezes outside my chateau window at night, creating within me visual images of bliss, as well as an audio symphony of a resonance of love…

Oh Gianni Corelli, song of my songs, rhapsodic symphony of my soul, what more can I say to you to convey my feelings to you?  I love you more than Eve loved Adam… more than Juliet loved Romeo… more than Bathsheba loved King David… as far above the earth than is the most distant star, is my love for you… as far above the combined love of all women in the whole world for their lovers, is my love for you – from Eve, the first of all women to the last woman whom God creates on this earth.

It is for you alone, dearest Gianni, that I have saved for all the days and nights of my life without end, my most prized possession… next to my immortal soul, that is… to bestow to you on our wedding night… along with my heart, which is already yours… to prove to you without doubt the veracity, the height, the depth and the breadth of my eternal love for you… I am speaking of the treasure of my chastity… my white rose, which is to be a testimonial to you that I am yours and that I will love you always… now and all the days of my life without end… and forever… more.”

[NARRATOR]:

As Michelle had professed and confessed her love for Gianni, she had leaned against him, clasping his right arm tenderly in both of her hands – gazing in profundity from the depths of her soul at his handsome features, which had remained impassive at times, but mostly had been aglow with a rapturous bliss.  He had drunk from the cup of her profluent words of amour that issued from the depths of her soul.  He had turned to gaze into her eyes at times, but had always turned quickly away again – to maintain his vigilant surveillance of the suddenly overcast skies. 

Her confession and avowal of love completed, she loosened her safety belt to the maximum, and then leaned closely to him to entwine her arms around his neck.  He turned to face her and they sealed her testimonial of love with a passionate kiss.  After a few moments, she pulled away from him, to again gaze into his eyes, that she might read his reaction to the words she had spoken.  Her heart melted in the tenderness of her emotions, when she saw the furtive tears welling in his eyes.  Embarrassed, he pulled his right arm gently away from her for a moment, to brush them away with his sleeve and then he turned again to face her, as he spoke:

[GIANNI]:

“The words that you have spoken to me just now have carried me out into the heavens amongst the stars, where you said that we had soared when we danced with one another in New York City.  I, too, have just experienced the rapture of bliss of which you confessed feeling, to the accompaniment of Wagner’s Act I Prelude to ‘Lohingrin’, played by the music of the spheres.”

 

*                             *                             *

 

[NARRATOR]:

 

[Later that same night, during their flight from Rome to Bordeaux, a violent storm wind had interrupted the conversation between Michelle and Gianni for a time, as he had fought to maintain control of the aircraft. After a time, when Gianni had miraculously regained control of the aircraft – in spite of the fact that the storm winds continued to rage about them – Gianni was again speaking in reply to Michelle’s persistency in pleading with him to reciprocate her confession of her love for him earlier]:

 

[EXTRACT # IV: FROM VOLUME II, CHAPTER 26, PAGES 977 – 983]:

 

[GIANNI]:

“Now that I have confirmed to you explicitly where my first and greatest love lies, I will tell you a little story:

Some time ago, whether I was awake in a reverie or asleep dreaming, I am not sure, but I seemed to be in a trance as I walked in the Spirit in an ethereal, exotic garden that I instinctively knew was the equivalent of the Garden of Eden.  I was certain that it was not the original Garden of Eden, for I have read in the book of Genesis in chapter 3, verse 24, that – ‘When he expelled the man, he settled him east of the garden of Eden; and he stationed the cherubim and the fiery revolving sword, to guard the way to the tree of life.’iii As I continued to glide in this ethereal, exotic and most captivating of all gardens, I received a sudden flash of inspiration that there was something enchanting and wondrous beyond all imagination hidden somewhere in that garden of delight and that I must search for it and find it at all cost.  I was given no clue whatsoever what I was to search for or where to search.  This was quite frustrating to me, for I perceived the garden to be immensely vast, stretching almost beyond the scope of my realm of conceivability. 

I drifted in the Spirit through the garden of exotic, panoramic splendor – for a period of time the length of which I was not certain – drinking in the ambrosial sights, sounds and aromatic pleasures that were sating my senses.  Suddenly, I espied the radiance of the sun reflecting from a great, golden domed object in the distance.  I, at first, thought that it perhaps could be the golden dome atop the Administration Building at Notre Dame and that this was the precious objective of my inspired quest – although I knew not why – as I had seen this almost daily in my attendance at the University.  Though the initial grandeur of the golden glow had been a great distance away, I magically found myself quickly at its very base.  I gazed upward, in awe, wondering, as I did, why I was not blinded by the dazzling brightness of reflected light.  It was a mountain, the largest and highest that I had ever seen and I discerned that it was constructed of solid gold. 

I turned and drifted in the Spirit away from that mountain of gold, sad of heart, for this was not the cherished treasure that I had expected to find.  I thought that the Spirit who had inspired me to search out the hidden treasure should know that I desire not gold, nor things of a worldly or material nature of any kind. 

I continued to drift on through the garden of exotic delight – whether in a dream or awake, I know not – seemingly led on by the Spirit, which had suddenly led me to discern that the gold was not that treasure that the Spirit wished me to discover.  Soon, in my trancelike state, I espied an iridescent luster of light dancing off of another object and which was breathtaking to behold, even at a great distance.  As I drew nearer, the vision appeared as a spectacle of rhapsodic wonder, like the aurora borealis on a clear night – only more dazzling!  It was a kaleidoscope of dancing multicolored hues beyond comparison.

I quickly arrived at the source of this rhapsodic vision and gazing upward, perceived that this was another mountain of vast magnitude and that it was composed of all the most precious gems known to mankind – diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, garnet, chrysolite…  Though I had, at first, been enabled to gaze at the brilliant vision – unblinking for a few moments – I soon became blinded by the vision and had to look away.

I turned and again drifted away, sad in heart, for I do not covet gems of any kind – or any earthly or material things of any sort, you see.  As before, I thought that the Spirit who had inspired me to search this vast garden of delight should have been cognizant of this fact.  And, in response, I was quickly enabled to discern that the gems were not the treasure that the Spirit had in store for me either.

I continued to drift on and on through that garden of delight – whether awake or in a dream, I know not – in my now desperate quest for that unknown treasure that had become, by that time, a burning desire that engulfed my total being.  I could think of nothing else!  I did not desire to pluck and eat any of the various, luscious, sweet smelling fruits that grew abundantly on the myriad of trees or vines of all varieties, as I passed by them.  Nor could I drink of the crystal clear water from the many babbling brooks that I drifted across or drifted beside – in my sojourn in the garden of rhapsodic delight.  An ambrosial fragrance of a myriad of beautiful wildflowers sated my olfactory senses, while a rhapsodic symphony of a myriad of songbirds filled the air.  I knew that Spirit had inspired these exotic, multicolored birds to sing only for me – to ease my melancholy from the anguish I was suffering because of my inability to discover my heart’s delight.  Time passed.   I could not sleep and I drifted in my trance ever onward in quest of my heart’s desire.

Sometime later – how much time had elapsed, I did not know – I came to what I instinctively knew to be the very center of the garden.  The ambiance of this part of the garden was lush with the growth of a myriad wild flowers of every description and hue, as well as with verdant spruce, balsam, aspen, cypress, juniper, tamarack, eucalyptus, acacia, ginkgo and other trees and shrubs of many exotic varieties that normally do not grow in the same area, or even in the same nation.  The synergism of the aromatic ambrosial delight that wafted about me would itself have put me into a trance, had I not already been in one, you see.

The Garden of Eden had its ‘Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil’ and the ‘Tree of Life’.  However, at the center of this exotic garden, amidst the lush, ambrosial plants, I espied what Spirit led me to realize was the ‘Tree of Love’.  I hurried to this most wondrous of all trees.  Was this, then, what Spirit had inspired me to search for all this while, I wondered?

At the base of the tree, I gazed in awe up into its stately branches, admiring the verdant foliage and exotic, blooming pink flowers, as I did.  I was soon saddened, however!  For in spite its splendor, it was – like the gold and the gems – only a material, worldly thing.  And thus, I desired it not.  I reasoned that this was the center of the garden…  It would, therefore, be the last area in which Spirit would have me search.  What else could there be, I wondered? 

It was in a state of gloom that I turned away from the splendor of the tree, to look for the hidden path that had led me to this place, that hopefully would take me back out of what had just then become my garden of despair.  As I did, my saddened eyes lit up in hope again, as I espied something a short distance from the tree that I had not previously seen.  I hurried to what I had espied and saw that it appeared to be a treasure chest of some sort.  I must say that I was again saddened and disappointed, for I do not covet those things of a material or earthly nature, you see.  I, again, reminded myself that the Blessed Trinity were the only treasure where my heart is anyway – I could not desire any other treasure, I assured Spirit.

Again, Spirit inspired me, for in a flash of realization, I was enlightened to know that this was not an ordinary treasure chest and that it contained something mysterious and of a wondrous and resplendent nature.  I was inspired to know that the chest contained a gift sent me by the most High – and that it was the most precious gift that I could receive on earth, next to the Blessed Trinity, that is.  The chest was not locked!  I opened it, with bated breath.  The inside of the chest was veiled in darkness.  I stretched forth my hand and reached down into the chest and behold!  I drew forth a most exotic and beautiful of all red roses that I had ere before looked upon!  I knew at once that this special red rose was the largest and most beautiful, the most fragrant, the most exotic and the most resplendent of all red roses that God had ever created!  I was also enlightened to realize that this particular red rose was the first red rose created by our LORD in the Garden of Eden when He created the earth.  Its aura, resplendent beauty and fragrance were like ambrosia to my poor heart and to my senses.

As I held the rose, as carefully and as tenderly as one holds a newborn babe, my gaze was again drawn to the treasure chest.  My heart leapt within me, for a mysterious green glow was now emanating from the chest that had moments before been as dark as the blackest night.  I placed the red rose carefully on the grass in front of me and again stretched forth my hand.  I was awestruck, as this time I withdrew the two most exotic, resplendent and most iridescent of all jewels that I had ever beheld before in my worldwide travels.  They were obviously emeralds, but they had a green brilliance that dazzled with radiance more resplendent than the most spectacular of all jewels of this earth.  

After a few moments of exultation, in which I held the jewels in one hand and the red rose tenderly in the other, my former sensation of gloom again descended upon me like a shroud, for I still realized that I desired not gold, gems, or material things of any kind, no matter how esthetic and dazzling to the eye they may appear to be.  In spite of this sensation, I somehow was inspired to the realization that the beautiful red rose and the resplendent gems were different, that they would be more precious to me than all else in the universe – except for the Blessed Holy Trinity, that is – though I was not told why. 

I thought of reaching into the treasure chest again, to discover what other secrets that the mysterious box contained.  I decided not to, however!  Spirit gave me the understanding and the wisdom to realize that I had already discovered the most cherished gifts in the entire universe – other than the glory of the Blessed Trinity, that is – and that it would be fruitless to search further.  I was enlightened to realize that the LORD had mysteriously sent to earth in the form of the red rose and the green jewels, just the tiniest glimpse of the glorious rapture of the breathtaking beauty of the resplendent ecstasies in heaven that await all those on earth – souls of all nations, ethnicities, races, faiths and religions, who have been washed pure, holy, white and clean in the Blood of Jesus Christ.  I still knew that the Blessed Trinity would, for all eternity, be the most precious, cherished Treasures where my heart is.  I also knew that the resplendent, fragrant red rose and the dazzling green jewels had almost instantaneously become my precious cherished treasure trove where my heart is also – and that they would be, forevermore.

As I gazed in ecstasy and in a new light at my treasure trove, suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye, I was no longer in the garden, which had again become my garden of delight!  I found myself at the home of Kecia Kelly and her family!  Then – whether in a dream, a reverie, or a trance, I know not – I was gazing into the green, jewel like orbs of the most resplendent, the most fragrant of all God’s red roses.  As I gazed into those green orbs that effervesced with a hue more beautiful than any I had ever beheld, a hue that emanated not only from the external eye, but from the depth of the wondrous soul and spirit within, I felt a fountainhead of ecstasy well within my being that was so rapturous that I expected I might close my eyes and awaken in heaven.  For I thought that there could be no rapture of this magnitude outside of heaven, except for the rapturous love of the Blessed Trinity, you see.

As I continued to gaze, entranced, into the resplendence of those precious green orbs, I was only vaguely aware that I was being introduced to the quintessence of beauty personified – a French lady whose name was like poetry to my ears, named Michelle Marie Marcell.  I, again, had the realization that the Blessed Trinity would always be the most precious cherished Treasures where my heart is.  But I also knew for certain that this vision of loveliness, this beautiful, exotic lady who was gazing back into my eyes, was to be my Immortelle… my resplendent, fragrant, red rose…You would be the rhapsodic song of the spirit, who would enrapture my spirit… It would be you whom I would eternally love, cherish and adore…For you were the beloved precious cherished treasure trove where my heart is…and then, my heart imploded within me with the inspiration… that I would love you all the days of my life without end… and forever… more.” 

[NARRATOR]:

Throughout those special minutes, as Michelle had listened, transfixed and enraptured in curiosity, awe, mystery and suspense to Gianni’s testimony of love, the specter of the tempest had continued to rage about them.  Yet, the aircraft had continued to fly as smoothly as if – as Gianni had said – it was in the palms of God’s hands and was shielded by His wings.

When Gianni finished speaking the last of his precious words, the ecstasy that had been building within Michelle throughout the revelation of his love came to a climax in a spontaneous, rapturous bliss.  He turned again to look into her eyes, as he had done intermittently while he had spoken.  All her fears of being sick and of death in a terrible crash were effaced from her mind.  She grasped the buckle of the confining safety belt, unclasped it, then threw herself against him, embraced him and kissed him more passionately than she had ever done before.  The impact of her body, as she had thrown herself against him, had induced his arms to move slightly and consequently had forced him to move the controls, thereby directing the aircraft to commence in a slight rocking motion for several moments, as they had kissed.  After a few moments, she forced herself mentally to pull away from their embrace, as she gazed into his eyes, with tears welling in her aesthetic eyes and spoke:

[MICHELLE]:

“Thank you, oh wondrous inspiration of my song in the spirit, for those beloved words that my heart and soul have for so long yearned to hear from your lips.  Thank you, oh light of my eyes, for speaking those words of amour to me, in such a beloved and mysterious way.  I am going to have you repeat what you just said to me word for word, if you can, the next time that we are together, so that I can have someone video us as we gaze into the depths of one another’s eyes as you speak.  I wish to keep this video so that I can play it back for us and treasure these words all the days of our lives together without end.  Oh, dearest Gianni, my love for you at this moment is more powerful than the storm that rages about us.”

 

*                             *                             *

 

 

Chapters 18, 26, and 31 extracts are from the novel, “Song of the Storm Winds”, by Ivan Erickson. Copyright © 2005. Published by La Belle Immortelle.  Revised edition, May 2007. All rights reserved. No part of this file may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever; including transmitting in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical – including photocopying, recording, or by any information, storage or retrieval system, or by any other method not yet invented or being utilized – without written permission from the author or his appointed representative.

 

www.ivan-erickson.com

 

icerickson@yahoo.com