“So that’s about everything?”
“Looks that way, yes.”
“Fantastic.” Luke leant his chair back on its two hind legs, folding his hands behind his head. “Well, maybe not the right word considering… but…”
“It’s the right decision.”
“Indeed.” It was supposed to be his job to build up his diocese, not to go around closing churches. But no, Luke, he told himself, it’s to free up resources to use where they're more needed. He landed the chair back on all four legs. “Can I ask how you’re feeling about… the big day?”
Tom carried on packing papers back into his briefcase. “I’ll think about it on retreat.”
“It’s a lot to save for the final week.”
“I could spend a year trying to process it and still not manage. But a week will have to do.”
“Don’t save it all up.”
Tom flicked the clasps on his briefcase closed before looking up. “It’s the only time I’m going to have.”
“Work?”
“If I’m going away for a week I need to get ahead.”
Luke shook his head. “You’re not thinking of it as coming back after that, are you?”
“Well, I’m still going to be doing the job.”
“Not really - just helping out behind the scenes until I appoint an acting archdeacon. And that’s generous for you to have agreed to.”
“I haven’t kept it in order this long to just let it fall apart.”
“You’re not entirely indispensable. You'll have to start stepping back anyway, since you won't officially be in the job anymore, and that has legal ramifications. We'll find someone competent to fill in what's essential; I have a name in mind. Sheffield’s managing without a bishop right now.”
“But I might as well do as much as I can to ease it through.”
“Very noble of you.” Luke leant back on his chair again, digging a hand into his pocket to find his rosary. “So long as it at no point hinders your personal development. You know, I’ve seen you a lot but haven’t really asked, how has your prayer life been since our conversation?”
Tom fidgeted. "I... should have told you. Friday. I missed morning prayer." He looked at the table. "Can I... explain why? Not that it makes it excusable, I know."
"Go on."
"That was the day I, um... tried to withdraw from consecration. I had this... really strong sense of God trying to talk to me, in the night, and eventually... I pushed God away. Emailed Ruth in the morning to tell her I was withdrawing. She summoned me to see her that afternoon, she made me listen to God and agree to be ordained and I did pray all the way home and said evening prayer and everything. But I missed the morning and didn't tell you."
Luke nodded slowly. "I see."
"Sorry. I... thought of it a few times."
"Oh, Tom." Luke pinched his brow with finger and thumb.
"If it happens again I'll tell you straight away. Sorry."
Luke raised a hand to stop him. "Thank you. It was clearly an exceptional morning, and completely understandable, not the kind of situation I had in mind when I insisted on accountability. And I understand why you were hesitant to speak of it, with the intensity of emotion you must have felt. If you had just said something on one of our phone calls this week, without me having to ask, you could have avoided a lot of unnecessary guilt. But for all that, you are forgiven." He paused for a few seconds, waiting for Tom to meet his eyes before giving him a small smile. "Now, what about the rest of my recommendations?"
“I did my best. Stuck to your directions, mostly. It was… well, helpful, when I’ve had time. And energy. It’s been busy.”
Luke held back a response, fingering his rosary beads instead.
“And I know I should be making it a priority, and making the time, and all, but work needs doing. And even without that, some days are just…” Tom tailed off, looking at the floor. “It’s like my entire body’s being pulled down. Like I’m trying to think through a fog. On those days, well, I don’t have the energy for the examen. Or I just don’t want to think about the past.”
“But you’ve been doing the reading?”
“Yeah. I did it.”
“And you return to it whenever you need it? And have searched for more passages which might speak to you?”
Tom looked at the floor in silent response, and Luke moved on, point made.
“Why are you afraid of the past?”
Tom shrugged. “It always goes back to… things I don’t want to think about.”
“Funny how that’s always the way, isn’t it?” Luke raised a hand to scratch his chin absent-mindedly. “You know why, of course.” He found a paternoster bead and started to pray silently, always his favourite way to listen. He gave Tom time to reflect.
“I guess… because it’s the most real. The most present.”
“Despite being in the past.”
“It’s in the present too. That’s what it means, not moving on.”
“I had another word.”
“What?”
“Unresolved.”
Tom considered for a while. “What is there to resolve?”
Luke raised his eyebrows slightly. “I don’t think anyone but you can answer that.”
For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever and ever, amen. Hail Mary, full of grace…
He glanced up to see Tom kneading his forehead with his hand. “How do I resolve it?”
…the Lord is with thee… And oh how infuriating it must be for Tom, that he wasn’t answering, but while he had ideas he didn’t have answers.
“Like, what am I even trying to resolve? The fact that losing her hurts? The fact that she’s not coming back? The fact that God didn’t answer our prayers?”
Luke met his eyes. “Are you still angry?”
“No. I don’t know.” A moment of silence. “No. I gave up on that.”
“I see.” He steepled his fingers together. “This is going to take you years, possibly the rest of your life, but it will get easier. You are going to have to engage. When prayer and reflection take you back, you need to go back. Don’t put it in a box.”
Tom laughed bitterly. “Boxes work for me.”
“Really?”
“I’ve been doing this most of my life.”
Luke looked at him gently. “Is it working?”
“I manage fine, don’t I?”
Pointed look. Rosary. Wait.
“It’s just… this. Needs a bigger box. With a key.”
Luke raised an eyebrow silently and waited for Tom to look down.
“I have work to do.”
“You certainly do.”
Tom dashed away a tear and glared at him. Luke met the glare calmly, reciting in silence.
“It hurts too much. It’ll kill me. Or at least make it impossible to do anything else.”
“When the box breaks, you mean?”
“I don’t let the box break.”
…Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our deaths…
“Anyway, what else am I supposed to do with it? Let it destroy me now, instead of just risking it destroying me later?” Tom took his glasses off and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I was doing fine, you know. Well, near enough. Managing. What am I supposed to do? It’s death, we can’t solve death. Certainly can’t undo it.” A long sigh. “I mean, I suppose… the gospel answers that, but for us today, in the world? Heaven’s a long way, and dreams don’t help much when you’re awake. And I know… this isn’t the sort of thing I should be saying, in front of my bishop, but… I dunno, I guess it’s how most people see it. Really. Especially when actually faced with stuff like this.”
Luke looked across the room, setting his eyes on the crucifix on the wall. “You’ve always felt this way?”
“I dunno. I mean, I used to believe it all. I’ve preached it enough. Death has lost its sting, and all that. But times like this?” He paused, and Luke waited for him to resume. “I dunno, when I need it most. You can believe all the promises, believe that God loves you and all, but some things… it’s a hope, that’s all. And a hope’s not much in times like this. We can say hope is everything but it’s a pretty poor everything. And maybe this is all just proving how weak my faith is, that I can’t trust… that I can’t stop feeling she’s gone forever.”
“She’s not.”
“Easy for you to say.”
Luke shook his head. “It’s not. But I believe it. Would God have created her just to let her flicker away without even a breath?”
“What if she never had life in the first place? What if she was just a bundle of cells?”
“You think someone so painstakingly knit together could just have been a bundle of cells?”
“How would we know?”
“Just like life after death. We believe. We trust. We hope. But you believe, don’t you? If you believe she died, you believe she lived. In your love for her, are you not mirroring the love of God for her? If you would do anything to keep her, would not God do more?”
“Less convincing argument, when you know what happened.”
“I know.” Luke met Tom’s eyes. “Hope. It’s all we have, but also the most powerful thing we could have. Our hope is not in vain. You would not be here now if you did not believe that God is true and God is faithful; if you had not known the love of God in your life, even if you doubt it now. You have faced loss before, you will face loss again, and you will survive, and God will be with you throughout, even if you do not always see them. Jesus weeps with you, just as he went off alone to grieve the death of John, just as he wept at the death of Lazarus. And Jesus shares in death, even with your daughter. And she shares in his resurrection. She is safe in the arms of God, as one day you and I will be. Be sad, Tom, at the dreams that died with her. But don’t despair, only trust. The pain will be easier with time. I know you don’t believe me now, but over the coming weeks and months… reflect on what I’ve said.”
“I can’t be ordained.”
“You must.”
“After all that? When I don’t even believe the basics?”
“You are being challenged, but you have not given up. It’s hard, what you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re still living, aren’t you?”
“Setting the bar low…”
“Letting God heal you. That slow, gentle, excruciatingly painful process that you’ll be especially vulnerable to on Lindisfarne, when you are left alone with nothing but God.”
“I can’t be a bishop.”
“You can.”
“Stop telling me that.”
“Stop making it necessary.”
“I tried to back out.”
“I’m glad you didn’t get further.”
“It’s going to destroy me.”
“That depends how you approach it. If God isn’t first, if you don’t rely on and trust in the Holy Spirit, then it will.”
“Not boding well right now.”
“Do not be afraid, Tom. Do not be afraid.”
“Easy to…”
“Not easy to say. For me to say, “do not be afraid”, I have to believe that you have nothing to fear.”
“I can’t do it. Parish was too much for me – I had to leave, I was mentally exhausted by the end. And somehow I got it into my head I could handle a diocese? I’m not tough enough, I’m not resilient enough, all those people, all those expectations… I can’t do it, Luke. I know I can’t do it. Other people keep telling me I can, and I let myself believe them, but I can’t, I’m going to end up tearing myself apart trying and it’s terrifying. But everyone else keeps saying I can, that I’m called, that I have to. I made a massive mistake and now I’m stuck in it. And Megan doesn’t want to go either, and the kids… they’re so good, but it’s upheaval for them, I’m messing things up for everyone and it’s just so stupid, I let myself get carried away a few months ago and now even what I have left is going to be swept away because of it, because I was stupid enough to let myself think I’d be able to do it, when I had no idea, and now it’s all running away with me and nobody will let me off and all I want is to go back to how things were.” He dashed a hand across his eyes and rummaged in his pocket for his hanky. “And now I’m making a fool of myself but it’s how I feel and you asked. I’m too tired for this. Too tired and too sad and I just want a break.”
Luke shifted along another bead. “How are you sleeping?”
“Terribly.”
“I guess you’re trying different ways to improve that? Not ruling out a new mattress or a weighted blanket, or even a chat with your GP. Hopefully Lindisfarne will also help.”
“What, when I’m lying awake in dread?”
“Worrying will change absolutely nothing.”
“I know that.”
Luke shook his head. “I understand your fear. All I can do is tell you you don’t have to be strong, you certainly don’t have to be perfect. You do have to be faithful and obedient, and you do have to trust in the Holy Spirit. You have to be open to God, and God will insist that you are open to others. And there is a certain amount you will have to leave behind you on Lindisfarne when you go to the Minster. You will change, just as you did when you were ordained priest. Be afraid, but don’t let it hold you back. Be sad, but don’t let it eat you up.”
“How?”
Luke played with the rosary. “Be a child with God and an adult for everyone else.”
“Which means..?”
“Reflect on it.”
Tom looked at the opposite wall in silence for a while. “So you think I can do it, too.”
“I think God can work through you, and what bigger privilege is there than that?”
“I don’t want privilege. I want easy.”
“For now, maybe. If you take easy, you’ll regret it, though. You’ll always be wondering what else you could have been doing.”
“Ruth said about the same. I dunno.”
“I think you do, really.” Luke shook his head. “Don’t worry about finishing all your work, we’ll deal with anything left after you’ve gone. Send me anything that’s proving particularly difficult. Obviously I’ll see you next week. And then... I look forward to welcoming you as my brother bishop, indeed to taking part in your consecration in the Minster. Have you ordered everything you need?”
Tom scrubbed his eyes one more time. “Well, everything for the service. Provided it all arrives in time. Which it should do.”
“Cross? Picked a nice one? Or designed your own? Not that we should be too bothered about such things, but…” he held up his own to indicate. “I remember it being the most fun bit of preparation. Just pretty things, no long-term consequences.”
Tom gave him a half-smile. “Met the silversmith yesterday, actually. Fun use of a day off. She’s working on the design, she’ll 3D print me a prototype in a couple of days and then make any final adjustments and then… get it cast.”
“Designing your own? I did the same. Well, I won’t ask too many questions, it’s always nice to admire after the service…”
“I’ve got some big silver bracelets of mam’s – a big box of her stuff, actually, more than any of the kids will ever want, especially as they never knew her. Anyway, she’s going to use them for the metal.”
“That’s lovely. And really special.”
Tom’s half-smile was still there. “I still don’t know how I’m going to deal with actually doing the job. But whatever happens, at least I’ll have something beautiful and meaningful.”
“Something special to put on each day, as you remember what you are called to do and to be.”
“Thanks for that…”
Luke smiled sweetly. “Shall we pray..?”
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