<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div dir="auto" style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">In the Chapel of St. Mary’s</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">I can’t tell you what happened<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" class="">there, why I entered the sanctuary,</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">a non-believer. Only that I<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" class="">have been thinking about worship,</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">the altar of the body and supplication,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" class="">for some time. My thoughts turn,</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">as they often do in this season of absence,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" class="">to my wife, and how tired a god can get</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">when called, and too often, for little reason<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" class="">but loneliness. Of course I don’t mean god here,</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">but rather the woman I love, who alters<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" class="">the orbit of my life, pulls me with the density</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">of light toward her, the draw thinner<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" class="">when she is farther away, as she is now.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">I try to find comfort in the inevitability<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" class="">of science, when what I lack is faith.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">The sanctuary—the stained glass,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" class="">four girls saturating it with soft chatter,</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">small pots of stargazer lilies, a lace ribbon<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" class="">for each pew—this place is full of faith</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">in the unknown, and I don’t know<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" class="">how to believe in what I cannot see.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">Tonight, I will drive through the foothills<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" class="">and into the valley. I will try to make</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 3.5vw; line-height: 1.65;" class="">a little practice, to trust you are with me,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" class="">even though you are somewhere else.</p><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- Donika Kelly</div></div></body></html>