Abandoned

Abandoned (Part Three - Chapter 47)

CHAPTER 47: Lord Shiva ...... (Your review here)

Father Mark and his dad, Mr. Penrose, had just passed the San Angelo city limit sign. In the back of his father's 1989 Isuzu Trooper were 12 bags of cement for the monks at the hermitage. This would be used as mortar to help complete what seemed like an endless number of projects that the monks were working on.

"How long have I been back from India, dad? A few months, right?"

"More like six."

"My goodness, has it been that long? Well, I have certainly been lost in my thoughts this past year."

"That's interesting because I've also noticed a change in you, son."

"For the better, I hope."

Mark's father laughed, "Yes, for the better. You just seem a lot calmer than you were before you left. I sense something very deep has been at work—such as, inside your soul."

Again the two men laughed, happy to be with each other and pleased to be delivering their cargo to the monks. Funds for the 12 bags were donated by the children where Mark taught school—a special piggy-bank drive that only took 4 months to reach their goal. Of course, a bag of mortar mix is not that expensive and the rocks, the monks found those free for the picking. That's one thing Texas has plenty of.

"Mark, it's pretty obvious that your trip to India has had a strong impact on you. But you did stop in Spain first. Did something happen there—or in India? Now you're even a vegetarian! That bilocation stuff can really stretch one's faith to the limit."

"Actually dad, I had a great time in Spain but as you know I'm a big believer that nothing happens without God's hand in it. Besides, I had been studying the life of Sister Maria for nearly a year before you had asked me to go to India. No, Dad—visiting Agreda and talking to the nuns at the convent was great. Rather, I think the tipping point came when I went to Vrindavan."

Mark paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I mean—you want to talk about something totally unexpected—because any connection between Sister Maria and Lord Krishna was not even a remote possibility. You know, two totally different religions. After I had left Agreda—sure I was still intrigued with what had happened to her, but my focus moved onto the real reason I was going half way around the world; and just like you told me before I left, India can be full of surprises.

"Dad, the more I think about everything, it's as if God wanted to first show me the deepest recesses of my Catholic faith and then open up a whole new set of windows for me to look out—and even show me how they are connected. But then I had to ask myself, why? Since our drive out to the hermitage is going to take awhile, would you like to hear what I've been thinking about these past few days?"

Turning toward his son, "Yes, very much."

"OK, you asked for it. Now, as far as Sister Maria, I must say that the more I think about what happened to her when the Indians killed her, the more I wonder what really happened to Jesus. I have to admit that there is the real possibility that 'The Jesus' whom the Roman soldiers 'thought' they had crucified—was in fact 'NOT' the real Jesus, at all. No dad, like I said, things don't happen by chance and I guess all that calmness you mentioned is just my attempt to hold still and listen to what is being said to me."

"So exactly what are you hearing? I've always admired your deep devotion to God."

"Well, that's just it. Along with that dedication has to come truthfulness. Look dad, besides God, you know me better than anyone else in this entire world."