Thursday Prayers

A Story by Regina Ndagire

..ever thought of getting a crash at Church! Or later on during prayers...a first sight love...

The church was half full when I entered. I literally tiptoed down the aisle to my seat observing the silence that filled the church.

The seats in my church are long pews arranged in two columns separated by an aisle. The three-piece-wooden benches have a seat, a kneeler, and an armrest to lean against while kneeling and they face the altar. At the red floored altar lie the altar table and the cushioned priests’ chair. The table is set at the center of the altar and is adorned with two small candles at either side. They are always lit. The priests’ chair is just behind the table. The church has a countryside setting that is just conducive for prayer. Everyone is welcome to sit wherever. Nevertheless I have a pew of preference. It is in the left column if you’re facing towards the altar. I sit at the point where I leave space from the edge enough for another person. I always find myself seated at that particular spot. And quite often I have found it vacant.

The memory of this day is still vivid in my mind like it was yesterday precisely because of the rarity of the demeanor. It was a Thursday. To be in the presence of the Lord on a weekly day felt like a whole lot more faith, given that I am more accustomed to Sundays. A friend once said that most of her testimonies are prayers that she made on such days. She argued that praying on ‘days which are not of obligation’ is part of faith with actions much as we often think of arms giving and other such kind of gestures when we read the verse.

I heeded her word.

I knelt to say my pre-service prayers. Upon concluding, I rose to sit and on him my eyes set. He was two pews in front of me and six pews away from the altar.

At exactly five minutes after 5pm the priest walked out of the sacristy. The longstanding silence was interjected by the squealing of shoes as the congregation rose to their feet in unanimity.

And the choir was at it.

‘…come to the Lord with a song in your heart…’ they hummed until the priest assumed his position behind the altar table.

Then it was sheer silence again.

‘We have gathered in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…’ the priest started us off.

All our attention shifted towards the altar but mine was obstructed. It stopped at him. He was tall - I wish I could estimate the height. His head towered above his neighbors’. But this is not what obstructed my attention; it was the hair cut. Marine, they call it - marine hair cut - less hair at the temples and back of the head than at the top. He was dressed in a checked blue, black and white long sleeved shirt which he had tucked in a pair of black trousers. He fastened them with a brown belt.

‘…the shoes must be some color close to brown...’ I rolled my eyes.

The attire was the right fit for his body and complemented his skin tone. He had a small physique with narrow masculine shoulders. A moderate torso build that tapered into a waistline then hips.

The day’s reading was from the gospel of Mathew. Peter asked Jesus about what their reward shall be; for they left all their possessions and followed him. Jesus in his response told him that they shall inherit the kingdom of God. The priest in his summon elaborated that while the apostles gave up land, families, businesses and so on, as Christians in this modern day we may not be able to do the same. However Christ calls us to give up bad behaviors like addictions, adultery, theft, malice among others if we have to inherit the kingdom of God.

It was very inspiring.

My thoughts kept drifting back to him.

We do not give offertory during weekly Masses. It is a church policy. The parish council thought it would discourage Christians from attending prayers as often as they would want to. So we only offer on Sundays or under special arrangement.

I was too carried away in my thoughts to realize when it was the time for consecration. The congregation was already on their knees. I just slammed myself down. I did not apprehend the loudness of the bang until I caught his eyes while I straightened up from the fall. It was not just him. It was everyone; the priest inclusive. They all stared in my direction.

‘They can’t be looking at me…!

I checked behind me. It is then that I realized that there was no one behind me. I was the last in the column.

‘….why would they?’

When I turned back, all eyes were at the altar.

For the rest of the Mass I just followed through with a lot of effort to focus my attention on what was going on at the altar. Much of it appeared as basic as the priest moving around the altar from one end to another. His lips were motioning words that I could hardly hear. His sharp voice almost whispers from beyond the walls of the church. And they repeatedly pierced through mind, interrupting the Mass going on in mind - him.

‘Peace…, peace…wonderful peace…wonderful peace of God…’ the choir went on and on.

I reluctantly shook the hands of my neighbor on the left. My right side was vacant. My front neighbor turned to extend peace to me. Coincidentally, he also turned to his behind neighbor. While my hands were extended towards my immediate front neighbor, the eyes were geared towards the furthest along with my entire mind. He didn’t meet my gaze. Then he made a hasty turn back to his position.

My eyes blinked uncontrollably in a bid to recover from the sight. I tried stopping them before I released that even my jaw was dropping. The lips were parted. I reached for my mouth not to close them but rather in awe.

‘Wake up…wake up…’I murmured while gently slapping my cheeks. ‘No. It is not a dream’

If I had been asked to describe the features of his face even after the stare, it couldn’t have been more than one word " handsome. That is what my mind saved him as. And what I felt is a story for another day.

Then it was the time for communion. Of course I could not receive communion not just because of the embarrassment from the fall or because I hadn’t paid attention during the Mass. But rather this was my only chance of viewing him clearly. I couldn’t miss it. And I could not risk another moment of embarrassment - tripping on him if by any chance we have to cross ways in the aisle. Enough of the humiliation at least not in church again. I shook off the thought.

‘…please God…please let him go for communion…’was my pre-communion prayer.

When he eventually stood up, he glanced straight out of the door then he swiftly turned and made his way towards the priest. They were quick but gentle steps. He moved very effortlessly, as if he had just walked out of a movie script. Confidently! He had mastered the art of walking. Rehearsed and re-rehearsed it. He walked with his hands swinging gently at the sides that I couldn’t miss noticing the fit of the shirt on his long arms. I smiled while I watched his narrow hips sway as he walked. He was unmistakably tall.

It wasn’t so long before he returned. I was not even the slightest bit wrong, he was a movie star.

His face looked tranquil and bold. The skin was fine in a chocolate tone. I could feel it under my palms; warm and smooth. He had marked shaven jaws. The barber had left a thin hair band on the cheeks continuous with the hair. It stopped midway the cheeks. There was another band on the chin and then a little mustache. His eyes were glass. I thought I could see through them. His lips a long slit. Thin. They were soft and sweet. I didn’t need to taste them. I pondered on them so long that I found myself petting my lips, with eyes closed wishing I could. As soon as I dismissed the thought I heard the familiar words; …let us pray…

We stood up.

I had been so carried away that I didn’t remember when the priest cleared the communion line or when my movie star took up his seat.

It was really fascinating. Guys of his kind do not be at church at 5pm on a working day! If they are not working they bet, watch soccer, hung out, do whatever but not church! And to be sincere no man in the congregation was anywhere close to his character. They were mostly old men.

‘…go forth, the Mass is ended.’ It was the priest again. The Mass had finally ended.

The choir led us through the exist song.

‘I can finally get to say hello outside church or better still get his name.’ the thought was appealing.

I knelt down while the priest walked back to the sacristy and I said my last prayers. I closed my eyes to shut off the overriding thoughts in order to concentrate for at least a second given that I hadn’t actually attended the Mass.

When I opened my eyes he was gone. His seat was empty.

I leapt out of the seat and hurried out of church as fast as I had hurried through the prayer.

‘He can’t be gone. Not that fast. ’I consoled myself as I practically run out of church.

I paced around as my eyes searched for him from the scattering crowd. And there he was. I could not catch up with his fast pace at least not without causing a scene. He was gone.

My lips opened to call him but the voice was chocked. I stretched my hand out to him. I couldn’t reach him and he could see me. He just continued walking. I simply drew the hand back to my chest to keep my heart from shattering. It was broken.

I reached for the pavement and curled up while I watched in pain as his figure faded away from my sight. The struggle to hold back the tears made the pain even more unbearable.

He was walking out of my life as easily as he had come.

‘Next Thursday!’ I said aloud as I came to the realization of the darkening sky. I struggled up released a sign of relief. ‘Yeah… next Thursday’ the idea startled me out of the tardy melancholy.

I suddenly felt so relaxed. The church compound was cleared. Everyone had left but it didn’t matter. The hope of seeing him again soothed me more quickly than I could imagine.

It is believed that people come to church to pray. True, some genuinely come to pray. They come to praise and thank the Lord for his favor and to seek for more. However some come to steal, while others come to give. Some come to meet their colleagues and church is their planned meeting point. Some come to track the Lord’s sheep - and this is where I shall forever until I see him again. There are so many other reasons. Many come for more reasons than just one.

With half closed eyes I strolled out of the compound while whispering my prayer request. I hope my friend was right about weekly prayers. I am waiting for my miracle - him.