Quote: St. Thomas More [1478-1535]

 

"No Longer Mourn For Me" [by Ensemble Galilei]...for those who have gone before

De Profundis

         [“Sanctuary” fulfilled]

      These days he always dreamed about terrible things, things that mirrored the fearful realities in his waking hours; it was as if all those fears were being dragged into his restless nights.

     Chris was no longer discernibly devout at this point in his life. He had been brought up in a distant country by an old woman and an even older man after being abandoned by his mother. Well, perhaps “abandoned” was not the right word. The old man had told him that she had left her baby—Chris himself—with them for safekeeping, as she was being pursued because of a death sentence on her head. On both their heads, or so she said, and she wanted her boy to be saved. But the old people had always been vague about what danger could have threatened an innocent baby. Instead, they showed him, daily, the reality of their faith and devotion to God, even in the harsh religious climate in which they lived. Over the years, Chris learned about their Christian faith; he learned where it came from and what it meant. He participated in their daily worship services, which were held quietly and unobtrusively, because of the ongoing religious intolerance.

     There were times they insisted he hide, explaining it as only an exciting game. Only much later did he learn the truth about that...

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Mary M Isaacs

copyright 2026 (story continued in a forthcoming book)

Sanctuary

                A short story by Mary M. Isaacs

 

   The old wooden door opened noiselessly; a young woman hesitated on the threshold, looking in from the darkness outside. The brick walls of the room were in shadow, lit only by two oil lamps on either end of a plain wooden table and the glow of a hanging lamp: a candle in a red glass holder.

   “Sanctuary,” she breathed, closing her eyes in thankfulness.

   She entered the room and quietly shut the door behind her. In her arms she carried something wrapped in blankets; over her shoulder was slung a large knapsack, which looked more bulky than heavy. Her clothing was wrinkled and stained, as if she had been wearing it for many days–which she had been.

   There were a few benches along the walls. She crossed to one and sat down gratefully. While still carefully holding what was in her arms, she unslung the knapsack and set it on the floor beside her. She then leaned against the wall and sighed deeply. This was her penultimate destination; the difficult journey was almost over. Although she no longer had a watch—she had no metal objects of any kind on her, for that matter—she had a good sense of time. She knew she wouldn’t have to wait very long for the final service of the day. She rested quietly, eyes on the hanging lamp.

   After a short while, a bell started to ring...

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Mary M. Isaacs 

copyright, 2020

"Sanctuary" is contained in the collection  The White Bird, on the right sidebar

"...I am God, and there is no other." [from Isaiah 45: 22]

 

Honoring those who gave all...