Father Gregor
The moment that I saw how Emily´s vital signs began to dwindle, but at least not stop, I could not help but question God and ask Him if He was playing with all of us, and especially me.
During the Last Rites Ceremony, I had felt a really strange, but amazing connection forming between Emily's soul and my own, and although it had taken me off-guard, I had been overjoyed because I had been able to sense that Emily, despite what the medical experts and instruments showed, had been given a new chance.
This experience, coupled with what the Lord had told me when this horror had started, had given me hope. Hope that I had not dreamed it all, hope for Jamie and his family who were going through hell.
But then not only the vital signs began to drop. I also felt Emily´s soul, of which I had become aware and to which I had been linked, fading away and disappearing completely, and doubt overcame me.
It was true that Dr. Saunders had told us all that the vital signs were still there, weak but stable. But sensing her spirit leaving all of a sudden made me become a doubter. The question I now had for God was, why?
Feeling ashamed of the emotions inside me, wishing to hold on to my faith and trust in God´s plan, and needing some time to think, I approached Jamie and his family and told them that I would be leaving. I promised them, and myself, that I would be checking in on them daily and that I would offer every form of prayer, and Mass, for all of them, but I left because my pride as a man and as a priest, I had to admit, were hurting.
An hour later I walked into my small rectory filled with defeat, sadness, and a strong desire to sit in front of the Holy Sacrament to question Him. I needed and wanted answers and there was no one who could give them to me but Him.
The small chapel was shrouded in soft candlelight, and as I walked in, the last person there, an old lady, greeted me, stood, and walked out, leaving me alone with my Lord. I looked up at the exposed Sacrament and walked over to the first pew, kneeling before the Lord.
My mind and heart, my very soul, immediately began to voice out their emotions and thoughts, demanding answers, even accusing God of playing around with me, and somewhere deep I expected Him to appear before me, as He had done once before, to explain Himself. But as time went by, nothing happened, and I became discouraged and became even more certain that I had been wrong about my perceptions. Maybe I had even imagined the appearance of Jesus before.
Like a mantle that is as heavy as a rock, I began to feel a sense of disappointment in God and this feeling expanded inside my chest bringing with it a lot of memories of my past that I would have preferred to keep buried deep inside me. Memories of me as a young man who had wished to escape his overbearing Christian parents, even hurt them, by becoming a Catholic priest. Of a rowdy teenager who had thought life owed him. I had hurt so many with my behavior, especially God and myself, that I could not bear it.
I sat on the pew behind me with my head held down in shame, and tears began to emerge and spill. I soon found myself sobbing like a child while my sense of shame and regret ate away at me further and further.
I had been thus submerged when I suddenly felt a warm hand coming to rest on my shoulder. I did not look up immediately to see who this was maybe because somewhere inside I knew who it could be, but the contact brought a sense of tranquility and warmth with it that made me finally look up.
But I was shocked when my eyes found no one either near me or far from me. In fact, the chapel was as lonely as it had been once the old lady had left, and when I looked at the Holy Sacrament, hoping to find my Lord there, I found that all was just as it had been before. However, what I did feel was heaviness and sleepiness overtaking me. In fact, the sense was so strong, that I was forced to take a seat again, and I even had to lie down on the pew. Soon after my eyes closed.
It took me a lot of effort to finally overcome myself and force myself awake. But when I did, I sat up and placed a hand on my forehead to try and clear the remaining cobwebs of sleep. I knew that I had to stand up and move, otherwise I was liable to fall asleep again, and that was inexcusable. How could I have fallen asleep inside the Perpetual Adoration chapel?
However, I soon became aware of several things. First, there was wind moving against my still-covered face, second, I could feel the warmth of sunlight hitting me, and third, I was not either laying on a pew or standing; I was most definitely sitting on a comfortable and warm bed.
My heart began to race at the implications of my discoveries. How in the world could I be on a bed, with sun and wind streaming around me? I had been inside a darkened chapel, deep in the night, not even… wait, how long ago was it? I could not remember that.
My shock only increased when I looked around and found that instead of being in the chapel, I was now, in fact, in my parents´ old home, in my room, and that it was day and not night. I then looked at myself and jumped in fright when I realized that I was no longer inside my adult body but my teenage one. What in the world was going on?
"Gregor! Are you up yet? We have church!" I heard my mother´s voice calling frown downstairs, and my heart somersaulted in me. My mother had died several years after I had become a priest, how was it possible that I was hearing her now? What in the blazes was happening?
As if having a very strange out-of-body experience, or rather, an experience where I was inside my body, but I was not in charge of my actions, I heard myself responding to my mother, and my body moving to remove the bedcovers.
I did not know what to make of any of this, and it was evident that I had absolutely no control, even though I was very much trying to do so, and for a good moment I freaked out. But then I forced myself to breathe and once I did, I understood that my adult consciousness had somehow been transported to its younger body. Furthermore, I realized that my lack of control was because I was meant to be here as an observer, and this hit me hard.
Suddenly, I remembered seeing this same thing, and with surprise, an image of Emily came to me. I had witnessed her experiencing this, seen her struggling with herself precisely because she had been unable to exert any control, or change anything, despite being inside her body, and a new sense of kinship arose in me. It seemed God wished me to go through the same ordeal now and the question that surfaced was, why?
I did not get much of a chance to ponder on anything further because I found myself moving around my room, which was a complete disaster, putting on the most hideous black clothes in this world, feeling an evil desire to cause trouble, and knowing I would once my parents saw my outfit and then moving out towards the dining room.
Sure enough, and just as expected, my mother began to scold me as soon as she saw me, asking me to change into something suitable. But, as the rowdy and irreverent young man that I had been, I simply sat down to breakfast and placed a set of earbuds on my ears while really loud and strident hard-rock music played.
I looked up at my parents to see what reaction my actions generated, and I was given what I wanted. My mother began crying while my father simply buried himself in his paper and food as it had been the custom in my home. My father preferred not to get involved at all, while my mother tried her hardest to cover the bases for both of them by praying, being the voice of authority and crying.
But, as always, I was unmoved and I simply applied myself to my breakfast, the music drowning out everything else around me.
Thinking in retrospect, I now believed that my actions back then had always been in reaction to my parents´ particular behaviors, a form of rebellious attitude that corresponded to how each of them acted towards me, towards each other, and towards different situations. But I also now understood that I had acted out of cowardice and a need to protect myself from a world that I perceived as difficult and where I could not exert control. And I hated not being in control, I had to admit. Maybe that was something else that Emily and I had in common, and maybe I reacted so strongly against her because I saw such a similarity between us.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when I felt myself standing from my chair, still not looking at my parents, still bursting my eardrums with that horrid music, and walking out of the room. I knew that my mother was calling me back to let me know I had left my stuff behind, but I simply did not care and continued on to my room. I banged my door shut and waited until the time came for us to leave for church.
Sure enough, an hour later my parents and I arrived at the service where Pastor Laurence presided, and I followed my parents to a pew where I sat without even bothering to remove my earbuds.
The service started not too much later, and as usual people first stood to sing with the choir. I stood too because my mother basically forced me to, but I did not make any effort to join in or look even remotely interested. In fact, I assumed a pose that literally told everyone to back off from me. That´s how bad I was.
I did not listen to a thing Pastor Laurence said either and when the whole boring thing ended, I simply stood, intending to vacate the premises as fast as my feet could carry me. I knew that my parents would talk with some of the other churchgoers, and with the pastor, but I had no intention of mingling with these "people".
Yeah, that had been me, allergic to anything that had to do with religion, faith, and especially God.
However, my intentions did not last long because as I was retreating and attempting to leave my parents behind, my mother took a hold of my arm and stopped me in my tracks. I stared at her with a hard look in my eyes, trying to remove my arm from her grasp, but she looked back at me with a stare that told me she was not kidding around, and she then pointed with her gestures toward the pastor who was evidently saying something to me. I was forced to pay attention and listen.
"Dear Gregor, I am glad you came!" the pastor said nicely. I had to admit, at least now, that Pastor Laurence had been a very kind man but at the time, of course, he had been the enemy.
"I was just telling your parents that we will have a church camp next week, and I would like to invite you to come. It will be fun, and we will be camping. Why don´t you join us?"
Now, even though I had always assumed a rude attitude towards my parents, and I would usually snap whenever they told me something I did not want to hear or did not like, I did not apply the same to other people, maybe because I felt ashamed somehow. But, whatever the reason, at that moment I made the effort to at least smirk at the pastor and tried to let him down easy. I could not even think about a church camp. Fun and church did not go together in my book.
"Come on Gregor, what could you possibly lose? A week away from home, with friends, a sort of vacation? You will have lots of fun, and I promise not to burden you with too much Jesus stuff," the pastor said with a bit of humor. That got me interested and I ended up accepting.
And so it was that a few days later I found myself packed and inside a school bus heading for a campsite not too far from our hometown.
When we finally arrived, I was surprised by both the site and the activities that had been prepared. True to his word, Pastor Laurence had planned a lot of them, but they did not involve God talk. This pleased me immensely.
By the time the second-to-last day of the camp rolled in, I had to admit to myself that I had been having a lot of fun, that the people I had gone with were really nice, and that the prospect of going back home did not seem interesting to me at all. I did not want to go back to my family, and my house. I was too comfortable where I was.
And then, on the last day, something happened that affected me more than I could have desired or intended.
I had been walking alone around the campsite, thinking about the nice time I had been having when I saw a small group not too far away from where I was. They were sitting in a circle and in the middle stood a young man that was evidently a Catholic priest from the garments he was wearing.
What first caught my attention was the absorption with which every single person in that group stared at the priest as if he were revealing life-changing secrets, and the second, was the kind face of the priest himself. And before I knew it, I had approached the group filled with curiosity.
Forty minutes after I had first come closer, I found myself also absorbed by the words that were coming out of that man´s mouth. He was speaking with such devotion, such passion, about his Church, about their doctrine and beliefs, that I could not help but become curious and hooked. And without my knowing it back then, a fire started inside me. A fire that evidently did not go out, even though I made every effort to suffocate it later.
I moved away from that Catholic group of people, all of them young like me, feeling as if I had been hit by a sledgehammer. However, the sensation, the strange feelings inside me, only caused my rebellious side, my protective walls, to come back up and I did not allow myself to be touched. In fact, when I returned home, instead of being a changed person, I got even worse.
I never told my parents about my experience with that group, and I did not talk to Pastor Laurence either, even though I think that he was able to tell something special had happened to me during the camp. I just did not wish to open up my mind, and especially my heart, to the memory of those words and those feelings that had stirred something deep in me.
Parish – present day
Sandy
The morning had started as normal, with me walking into the small rectory´s office at 7 am. I then turned on my computer, reviewed the messages Father Gregor might have left for me, checked any messages on our answering machine, and then went to get a coffee before starting my activities for the day.
However, as I was waiting for the coffee pot to be done, I decided to pay attention to the usual noises inside the parish and realized soon enough that they were missing. At this time, I would normally hear Father Gregor´s voice as he walked toward the main church for his Mass, the noise his garments made, but that was absent completely.
Curiosity got the better of me and I left the coffee on the pot while I went to Father Gregor´s small office to see if he was in there, which would have been really strange as he had never been late for a Mass.
However, when I knocked, and then opened the door, I found that the office was empty. This only increased my curiosity further, so I moved into the office to check it out. But I found no clue as to the whereabouts of Father Gregor.
I then went to the small parish house, thinking that maybe the Father had gone there, but no matter how much I called and looked, I got no answer, and this started to worry me. It was absolutely unheard of for Father Gregor to leave like that, without a trace.
I had been walking back to my desk, hoping to walk into Father Gregor, when I crossed by the door that led to the Perpetual Adoration chapel when I felt an electric charge moving deep inside me.
My feet stopped right next to the door, and without being able to help myself, I opened it and walked into the place. As usual, it was shrouded in soft light, multiple candles illuminating this Holy place, and the Monstrance stood at the end, on top of the altar.
After kneeling in respect, I allowed my eyes to wander around the silent and solitary place, but at a first glance, I did not see anything. However, when I was turning to leave, my eyes caught a flash of black garments, and moving towards that sight, I came to stop with a gasp, right before the still form of Father Gregor.
My heart jumped in fright inside me, and at first, my brain became frozen in shock, unable to process what I was seeing. And of course, my first thought was that our beloved priest had been called by our Lord in this most Holy place. But then something forced me to see beyond the appearances and I realized that Father Gregor was breathing deeply.
I then moved to try to wake him, placing my hand gently on his shoulder, but no matter how hard I tried, the man did not stir at all, or gave any sign that he could hear or feel me.
Freaked out, I searched for my cellphone and dialed 9-1-1, and not even 10 minutes later the paramedics were moving Father Gregor on a stretcher towards the waiting ambulance, calling and informing our nearby hospital about him seeming to be in a coma.
As soon as I heard that word I felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on me. Father Gregor in a coma? But why? He had had no medical issues that I knew about, and I would know as I handled everything for him and took him everywhere, even the doctor. So how on earth did a healthy priest, full of life, vitality and energy, suddenly fall into a coma?
When I arrived at the hospital, I waited for close to two hours to receive news of Father´s condition, and while I waited, I called several parishioners, leaders of different groups, and especially the prayer group, to inform them about what had happened and ask them to pray.
Not long after that, the ER´s waiting room became a flow of parishioners who wished to accompany me, know how Father Gregor was doing, and offer their help.
I had been thus entertained, attending to different people, when all of a sudden, and without knowing why, my mind started thinking about Jamie Summers. And before I knew it, I was dialing him and informing him about what had happened.
Of course, his first question was how had it happened, and the second had been what the doctors had said. But I told him we still did not have any news and that as soon as I learned more, I would call him.
I had just finished my call with Jamie, when I saw a doctor at the entrance to the ER calling out to companions of Father Gregor. I immediately went to the man and accosted him with questions.
The biggest shock came when the doctor informed me and some of the other parishioners who had also approached him that medically speaking there was no explanation for our beloved priest´s health situation, that as far as they could tell from the tests ran so far his body seemed as healthy as ever, even his brain, but that they would perform some more advanced procedures to be completely sure that nothing was amiss. For the time being, he told us, Father Gregor would be taken to the ICU where he would remain until he either recovered consciousness or the tests showed what was wrong. After that, we would have to decide what would be done.
I, of course, knew I had to inform the Diocese about this incident so a new priest would be assigned to our parish while Father Gregor was out of commission. And also, because it was my duty. But I had no idea what I would tell the Bishop, and knowing him, he would want to know the details.
After Father Gregor was moved to the ICU, and I had ensured everything was going well, I went home and dialed Jamie Summers once more. I told him what the doctor in the ER had told us and as I did, I could not help the sudden image that popped into my mind of Emily Summers. And I asked myself, was there a connection between these two cases?