Emmie Jacobs

It was Friday morning and the elderly Emmie Jacobs buttoned up her navy gabardine, looped her shopping bag over her left arm, opened her front door, hoisted her umbrella against the softly falling  drizzle and made her way along the garden path. She brushed against the privet at the end of the garden, cascading droplets on her shoulder. As she moved into the street her thumb felt  the familiar embossed brass tag, polished by numerous hands that requested that we should  "Please shut the gate." She did exactly that and with a resigned breath she began the short walk to the Catholic church, discreetly hidden behind the cherry trees whose blossom was now threatened by wind and rain.

In the porch she retracted her umbrella  and pulled the heavy door towards her. She dipped her finger in the holy water stoop and made the sign of the cross feeling as she did the cold moisture on her forehead. Having left the,umbrella in a corner near the piety stall,she quietly made her way to her usual pew in the main aisle just in sight of the Lady Chapel, here she genuflected , knelt on the hard kneeler, paused for a moment of silent prayer, placed her bag on the pew beside her, and took out her black lace mantilla. She placed it comfortably over her head and shoulders and gently sat  down. The mantilla had been a gift from her son, brought back from a holiday in Spain.  At first she had thought it rather showy but now she rather liked it. She spent another few moments disentangling her rosary beads which had become snagged on the lace and made a mental note to put them in different pockets  in future but somehow she never remembered. Now she could settle down.
 

She preferred to sit as the old knees were not as kind these days and she needed to be comfortable to begin her thoughts. She was told it was a form of meditation but she preferred her thoughts. She never got further than the first Joyful mystery, The Annunciationa. This was where she always began and where she always finished. It seemed to her that Hail Mary began here and it suited Emmie to begin there too. She began to slip,into the past of thousands of years ago. Her eyes fell  upon the statue of the Virgin Mary in the Lady chapel to her right, the tall blue veiled figure almost looking down on her and she thought about her prayer  and the coming of the message ; "Ave Maria gratia plena, dominus tecum", just like the hymn. She had been a member of the Children of Mary as a girl and they had often sung that hymn. 

She became distracted as she adjusted the mantilla and thought of the Muslim girls on their their way to the local girl's Catholic High School wearing their head scarfs colour matched to the pale blue of their school shirt and navy blue blazer. They had been given permission to wear trousers, she remembered being told: rather more modest than the short skirts worn by the other girls.  There was an  almost imperceptible shake of the head as she returned her thoughts to the little house in Nazareth. 

She was shaken from the thought by the sacristy bell and the entrance of the priest to begin the early morning mass. There was little time for her thoughts now as she gave herself to the life long familiar steps of the ritual. The body of the church was quite dark with only the sanctuary being fully lit. She liked the feeling of being almost hidden in the dark where she could let her spirits soar beyond the trappings of the everyday and claim some tiny jewel of inner peace.

When it was all over, communion received, silver vessels all dried and polished, she once again gave a little thought to the Ave, a quick prayer for her son and daughter, and a special one for her husband David, although while not a christain and departed was still dearly loved belonging as he did to the Old Testamnet rather thanthe new. That was his way of putting it. She folded up the mantilla, dropped the rosary in her pocket and with a sigh turned back to the door. She dipped her finger in the holy water stoop, retrieved her umbrella and stepped outside.

It had stopped raining and the morning traffic had gained in size and pace.  Chattering schoolgirls bustled along the pavement on the way to their end of week lessons, lollipop bearing sentries stood at zebra crossings and all world seemed to be on the move.  Emmie stopped and quickly turned back to church. She had left her shopping bag underneath the pew again , again.


JL June 16 14:36