Tears for Heaven

The Rainy Season & Katie’s Cathedral


From the outside of the rain-soaked church miniature tides of water stream down the darkened windows. Peering down, Our Lord sees that stone shaped cross that houses His legacy within. Katie tires of the downpour and the throbbing headache from crying now irritated evermore by the constant banging of the windshield wipers pulls into the parking lot of the church. Our Lord smiles. She barely remembers her hurried walk to the concrete steps leading up to large wooden doors. Despite their size, the doors open easily as if welcoming her in from crying clouds of nature. The ambience is quiet and notices an elderly man kneeling to her right. Quietly standing Katie studies the bowed head and the subtle rhythm as a black-beaded rosary drips from his thumb and forefinger. Despite the flowers and dim lighting of the alter settings up front, there is only one focal point to this house of God which is somehow staring down through the slumped head and closed eyes of the mounted crucifix. Walking midway down the aisle to the left, Katie slowly genuflects without breaking her locked gaze on the crucifix. Removing her coat as she enters the pew, her knees descend on a kneeler already down. Without remembering when she pulled her grandmother’s pearl rosary from her handbag, she crosses herself in the silence. Her sorrow hangs despite the softening rain lightly drumming the roof outside. Although a faint glow offers a growing warmth and color to the stained-glass, her tears are the voice of her prayers. Sounds of birds break her soothing rhythm that have gradually quenched her tears and dried her light-blue eyes. Rays of color are now streaming rainbows covering pews as dust swirls within its captured luminance. Her heart is lighter as she whispers, “Hail Holy Queen,…”. What she doesn’t see is within her soul, the fire of faith is streaming brilliant blue rays of hope splashing onto her heart. To her right, her Mother is holding Katie in a realm she is not able to see or feel, but at times, and particularly now, she knows. Holding them both in this invisible Kingdom, resting His head on Katie’s shoulder and joining His Mother’s, Our Lord inhales the remaining whispers, “O my Jesus, forgive us,…”. Katie looks up, then to her right and realizes the old man has gone, but somehow she knows she is never alone.


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