In and out of hospitals, Allister's worsening condition keeps him confined to his bedroom. When his little sister asks for him to carry her, Allister can barely muster the strength. Trading a ride on his back for a fairy tale, time ceases as Alliste...
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"MY GRACE IS SUFFICIENT FOR YOU, FOR MY POWER IS MADE MORE PERFECT IN WEAKNESS. Therefore, I shall boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses--"
Splayed like a corpse upon his bed, Allister nodded off to the steady, rhythmic cadence of Reverend Gregor's recitations.
The reverend must have noticed this, stopping partway through the verse. Stroking his grey beard. Intense dusty blue eyes rising from the Word.
"I do apologize. My presence hinders your rest," Gregor spoke, shutting the book, rising from an antique reading chair. Crossing the room to see himself out.
Allister could barely lift his neck to glance Gregor's way, his head falling from exhaustion. Eyes resting on bright red plastic secured around his thin wrist. A patient ID wristband.
"I don't--understand," Allister began slowly, ending with a groan.
The Reverend's hand stopped just before it gripped the doorknob and dropped. His other clutched a silver and obsidian rosary.
"My power is made more perfect in weakness," Allister recalled, faint.
Just sixteen, with most of his life spent in and out of hospitals, certainly Allister couldn't understand how he could be made more perfect in weakness. Every day was a battle to stay alive.
Gregor fell silent, as he stood by the door. His neat long snow-white hair resting on a black and white collared vestment. A stark contrast against the earth tones of Allister's cozy room.
"The verse is something you--" Gregor started.
"Discover through living," Allister chided, weak, knowing exactly what the reverend would say. As he said this often as he ministered the sick young man.
Gregor remained silent.
"I'd feel better about the same cryptic wisdom if I could actually consider this living," Allister began again, pointing slowly to his wristband.
"How you doubt, Mr. Holding," Gregor replied, grave.
"Who wouldn't doubt in my position?" Allister questioned, short.
"A man of faith," Gregor stated, under his breath.
"And here we go again with 'I cannot know God's plan' or my other favorite 'everything happens for a reason,'" Allister jeered, sarcastic.
With that, Gregor finally turned and looked Allister dead in the eye.
"In your misery, you must avoid succumbing to bitterness. I sympathize with you, boy. And yet I will not allow you to turn from Him," Gregor declared, firm. Standing a little taller, pointing sharply upwards.
"He has--turned from me," Allister replied, hoarse.
A salty taste fell upon his lips. Allister's thin long fingers met the wetness of his cheek. Surprised to find tears.
