Sojourning With Angels: The Rise of Zazriel by Olson R. Leo

Author:Olson, R. Leo [Olson, R. Leo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Faith and Fiction
Published: 2011-12-01T08:00:00+00:00

When I rejoined Kallistos, Natalie sat on the same bench in the cemetery. She seemed to be enjoying the breeze, as the morning warmed up and crocuses opened their petals to the heavens. She looked over the wilted bouquets, shiny plastic arrangements and empty metal holders across the studded landscape of green grass and gray lime stones.

She got up and started to walk the lines, standing in front of each stone, offering a simple prayer for the named dead. Kallistos stationed me on top of the pyramid to watch for Father Lazarus while he walked in the lingering cool of the morning with her. She stood longer in front of the simpler marker stones and the graves worn down and weathered, crossing herself. She walked past a statue of Mary, arms raised, forever interceding for those under her shadow.

On her way back to the benches, Natalie stopped and looked at a grave where a husband and wife were named. It was ornately engraved. It listed their names and their birthdates but only his death date. The inscription read, ‘Even in death let us not part.’

She walked over to the benches and waited for Father Lazarus. Kallistos stopped prompting her and located below me.

It was twelve fifteen when the old priest managed to make his way to the cemetery. Natalie pulled out a small bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag and he smiled.

“I have questions for you. You must answer to my satisfaction before I tell you more. I will not give pearls to swine. Deal?” Father Lazarus asked.

“Father, are you calling a pregnant woman a pig?” She smiled, acknowledging her affection for his gruff nature.

He smiled back, blushed, then looked around with an old man’s grimace.

“Are there many of them around?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, lowering his head.

“What do they want?” she asked.

“I’m the one asking the questions here. They call me a whiskey priest. What do you say to this?”

“Who am I to judge what kind of priest you are?”

“Hmm.” He sat down across from her. “Next question—you have seen something frightful in your husband. Are you not afraid?”

“No. I mean it was scary, but now it’s like I’m standing at a balcony watching the world busily go by. I’m probably in shock, but that can’t be. I feel many things, sadness, I cry all through the day; but I also have a certain amount of distance from it. It’s strange, but no, I don’t feel fear,” she said.

“Detachment—it’s called detachment. You still feel and have emotions but you are not governed to them.”

“Yes, exactly. Do you have this, too?”

“No. Only the pure in heart have this. Next question—why did you leave the Orthodox Church?”

“I just followed my husband’s lead. I missed it all, but it didn’t seem wrong to be with people who were excited about their relationship with Jesus, studied the Bible and enjoyed life.”

“That’s what’s best about the Protestants. What do they tell you to do?”

“Well, Pastor Dan sticks pretty close to the Bible and its advice.

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