Transfiguration

On Friday afternoon I skipped my international studies class and instead visited church. I have stared at her pointy sea-green spire sitting atop red brick from the comfort of my bedroom window since I’ve lived here, but never ventured in. I wanted to ask for a bible. I wanted them to provide me with tangible faith.

I walked into the church through the side ramp entrance, because the front was locked. Warm wood, sunlight reflected through stain glass, the organ being practiced by a man above, the music deadly serious, and a boy cleaning up the pews. I wanted a bible because we had been reading parts of the New and Old Testament for my history seminar on the apocalypse, and I told myself I wanted to read the New Testament through a historical lens, but really, I needed any kind of spiritual comfort. I attended an ice protest on campus and after class walked to the dispensary tears streaming down my face.

The world seems to continue descending down a path irremediable. Every day I wake up and the news feels like a nightmare. But what do I do? Cry. That’s all I know. Silently sobbing and wiping my tears away wherever I am.

I asked the man cleaning (who upon approaching, I realized was a classmate in my apocalypse class. I always thought that his comments in class were intelligent and insightful, and look where I see him! He said he cleaned for the church and sang in the choir. Sometimes people line up better than you could even hope.), and he told me to go to the office, Cheryl might have one, and if she doesn’t, she could find one for me. I went to the office, rang the bell, and she let me in.

“You must be Sarah?”

For a moment I thought about answering yes, impersonating whoever this girl was that Cheryl was expecting, but instead I told her,

“No... I’m just random.” She remained eager, nonetheless. “I don’t know if you do this, but I was wondering if you had a bible that you could give away?”

She searched but didn’t have an extra bible, only the Testament of St. John, which I gladly accepted. She was very kind and asked about what I was studying, we had a short conversation about Europe, then the real Sarah showed up and I left. Outside I stuck a dollar bill in the arm of a St. Frances of Assisi statue, who had a scarf wrapped around his stone neck and coins in his hands. Even saints get cold.

I went home and read St. John out on the porch. It was freezing and I had to wear a scarf and gloves and a hat and change pants, but I didn’t want to be inside, I wanted to freeze in the sunshine, warmed by the words of Jesus, with the freedom to smoke my joint whenever I wanted.

Sometimes it feels like my life is a hole I’m falling through. Things are all twisted. Up is down and down is the only direction left.

I’ll do anything to feel better. Get stoned, read the bible, yoga, pray, spend time with my friends. As of present, none of it amounts to any lasting relief. But I will persevere.

Anything for comfort, anything to distract from this dark feeling that wraps itself between my bones.