"Do you have a working phone?" Sarah asks. "I really need to get a hold of my mother."
"We should call the police, too. If you were attacked in your home by your mother's boyfriend, he should be arrested. Or at the very least, asked to leave the home," I tell her, trying to keep a lid on my simmering rage.
Sarah's about ten inches shorter than my six-foot height as she hunkers down in front of the fireplace. I hurry to grab some blankets, a dry pair of sweatpants, and a shirt she can change into. She doesn't hesitate to wrap the blanket around her and pull the wet shirt off from under it.
My eyes were wide before darting away.
"I'm sorry. I'll give you some privacy," I tell her, and head into the bedroom.
I could go into the kitchen, but there's no separation between the two rooms. I'm determined to keep my priestly vows of abstinence. She's not paying me any mind as the blanket falls just enough to show her bare shoulder.
I take multiple deep breaths as I pad into the bedroom, where I pace in circles until a soft knock on the door stops me. She's drowning in my clothes. Cute.
"Thank you, Father," she says softly.
The way her words send a thrill of lust ricocheting across my body tells me I'm in trouble. There's no one who's been able to trigger my primitive urges so quickly. Even as my shirt hangs loosely over her, it still can't hide the supple fullness of her breasts. And those two teasingly tempting little nipples peaking right at me stir my cock. Oh, so deliciously.
Sarah's running her fingers through her wet strands with a slight grin on her face as she speaks. "I know I asked for a phone, but would you happen to have a blow dryer too?"
"Not here, but I'm certain there's one in the donation room in the church. I left a phone for you on the counter in the kitchen.There's some stew and a salad. I'll be right back with the blow dryer for you."
I have to get out of this space. This room … my bedroom … with her standing there waiting for me to take her into my arms and between the sheets. The storm outside is more comfortable than the storm brewing inside me. My vows pitted against the physical realities of lust throw me. This close is just too much. I need to make a quick release.
I welcome the rain as I leave my cabin. My steps splash through puddles, keeping my mind focused on the task. It only takes a few minutes to get inside the main church building, where the statue of Our Lady above the altar in my church,Our Lady of Grace,glares at me through the dimness with her judgmental eyes.
I kneel as thunder rolls outside. Rain streams down the stained glass windows. I cross myself, clasp my hands together, and pray.
Our Father in Heaven,
I come before You here tonight in darkness—both the storm that rages without and the tempest within my soul. I have worn this collar with devotion, yet tonight I must speak a truth I have long resisted: I do not know if I am called to this life. My doubts grow stronger.
Grant me the courage to face what I have been afraid to examine. I feel the stirrings of human desire—for companionship, for intimacy, for a life beyond these walls. These are not shameful whispers, but the voice of the man You created me tobe. Help me discern whether they are temptations to resist or callings to honor.
Giveme wisdom to understand the difference between a moment of weakness on one hand and a fundamental mismatch of vocation on the other.
A sudden flash of lighning brightens the church. Startled my eyes pop open as the following thunderous peel rattles the foundations of the church. I’m sure I see Our Lady’s eyes widen and smile direclty at me in that instant.
Give me the strength to examine my heart with absolute honesty. If I remain, let it be because I am truly called—not from fear, not from comfort, not from obligation to others' expectations. If I am called to leave, grant me the grace to do so with integrity, seeking opportunities to continue serving my community rather than betraying my promises and principles.
Most Holy Mother, Virgin Mary, guide me toward truth. Help me see clearly without the distortion of desire or despair. You know the value of virginity above all else; share that wisdom with me.
And Lord, whatever path unfolds: grant me peace, and the wisdom to live with honor and courage; love and respect; passion and truth. Always.
I start to cross myself and rise, but hurriedly add;
Please protect and guide Sarah in her life, especially her relationship with her mother. Keep he mother safe and above all give her mother’s boyfriend the wisdom and courage to be a better man, and heal from his physical and emotional wounds. Amen.
After pleading for strength, restraint, clarity, and understanding, I get up to rummage through the storage room where we keep the items our parishioners donate. There areseveral hair dryer things, but I'm certain Sarah can manage with just one.
When I return to my cabin beside the church, I can hear Sarah on the phone. The tone of her voice tells me she's not happy.
"I can't believe you went back. That wasn't a part of the plan," she says into the device.
I poke my head inside and set the hair dryer on the counter before retreating into the bedroom for her to continue her conversation without my prying ears.
When she knocks, and I open the door to her a while later, I can see the disappointment in her eyes.
However, the expression on her face shifts as she scans me in from head to toe.
