“A significant number of people will votewithme. If someone took them and threatened to harm them, I would do whatever they wanted, absolutely anything.”
Dree asked, “Are we talking about Jules again?”
“Yes, we’re talking about Jules again.”
They tried to see the sisters and children every other day, usually for lunch or dinner. Maxence had taken the mother superior of the convent aside and explained the situation, adding that he was glad that they were staying at the convent with people he could trust. The mother superior assured him that the convent was safe for two little girls and two religious sisters. Besides, there was a nursery school and other little girls for Majambu and Mpata to play with. It was a nice vacation for them.
Maxence was the little girls’ favorite person to play with, of course. The minute he arrived, they swarmed him. They clung to him like squirrels on a tree, scampering up and down his legs as he tried to talk to the good sisters Ndaya and Disanka, until finally he gave up and played with the girls until they were so exhausted they would nap.
It was during one of these playtimes when Max was lying on the floor and the toddler girls were leaping off the couch and landing on him, that Sister Ndaya said to Dree in English, “Père Maxence is very good with the little ones, no?”
“Oh! I didn’t know you spoke English, too! Yes, I was on a mission with Catholic Charities up in Nepal with him, and the little kids there loved him, too.”
Ndaya and Disanka nodded to each other, and then Ndaya said to Dree, “When the man came and told us we would be going on a trip to see him, I had hoped that we would be seeing Père Maxence ordained as a priest. A man of Christ like Père Maxence should be a priest, not a deacon.”
“Oh?” Dree asked, her heart pulling in her chest.
“We have worked with him for years. Most men with such a great vocation would have been ordained long before this, even those who are applying to join the Society of Jesus. Jesuits have a longer path than parish priests, but the men are ordained as priests before they take their final vows to the Society of Jesus. It is not fair that they have not allowed Père Maxence to take Holy Orders.”
“He’s kind of important around here, too. I think he just had some stuff here that he had to finish up before he could take the sacrament.”
Disanka shook her head sadly. “It’s not fair. Père Moses has often talked to us that he has never seen such a godly man as Père Maxence, and he thinks it is a great error of judgment that he has not been allowed ordination yet. We all pray for it daily because Père Maxence would be a great priest. A great man, a great priest.”
The toddlers climbed up on the sofa with their chubby knees and hands and, one at a time, hurled themselves into the air, arms and legs spread like a sweet little starfish flying through space. Maxence caught each one in his strong arms before she crash-landed on his stomach, usually feet-first. Then, he set that little girl on her feet, and she sprinted back to scramble back onto the couch while Max caught the other one before she pile-drove him in the stomach with her adorable heels.
Dree liked kids, and watching Maxence play with them was just stinkin’ cute.
Dree asked the sisters, “You think he has a true calling to the priesthood?”
Ndaya widened her eyes at Dree. “Have you ever heard him speak the word of God during the Mass?”
Dree looked back at Maxence’s divine patience with the toddlers who appeared to be trying to stomp him to death. “Yeah, I have.”
“Then, you know why.”
Yeah, she did.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Prayer III
Maxence
Maxence spread his arms out from his sides and opened his heart and his soul to God.
A small spotlight cast a cone of white light upon the crucifix nailed to the wall in the dim closet. His clothes hung on the rails on the sides, forming a fluttering tunnel that led to his tiny altar that emanated scents of lavender and clean linen. The closed door behind him blocked out the rest of the world and any shuddering sounds.
The carpet was rough under his bare knees.
The dark air was cool on his naked skin.
He was as vulnerable as the day he was born, and his heart begged God or Jesus or Mary and all the saints to intercede, desperate for clarity or strength or anything else they had to offer
He delved into his soul, looking for answers.
His fate was in their hands.
His faith was in their hands.
