Breakthough

“How I’m tired of all this!”

She opened the window and breathed in the morning air. It had the smell of war.

“I wish it would all be over!”

She’s tired. She said this to herself every day: “I’m tired, I’m tired.” She was tired of everything: of the war, of her own unsettled and, sometimes, as it seemed to her, aimless life, of expectation. Rarely She did not feel tired. Those were the moments when She was in love.

She was happy that she loved. But like now, She never loved. In Her love there was no present irreversibility before. She never had the feeling of a clenched hand and persistent movement forward, into the unknown, through storms, horrors and chaos. Such as was her impression of the monument of love in Bruges. A monument of love... At that time it did not impress Her. But then He was not in Her life yet.

He was the most amazing person for her. He gave her everything - love, creativity, a sense of life. He was the embodiment of her dreams. With no one before Him She had experienced such a strong inner pleasure. But now She remembered His constant definitions of life as a battle and His military metaphors.

“O men!” she burst out. “Why do they love to fight so much?”

“But you were waiting for this war yourself.”

She turned around. He stood before her. What was it? Dream, reality? He, with His regal posture, light step, smooth movements and luminous, slightly mocking eyes, as in His last photographs, when He was still alive. May He really be an Archangel? But then which one? No, it’s stupid to think about it.

“Who cares what I was waiting for! But I didn’t want this war!”

“Didn’t you?”

She couldn’t lie to him.

“At least, that’s not how I imagined it at all!” She tried to justify herself.

“It never turns out the way we imagined.”

“You’re right.”

She flung herself on His chest and, clinging to Him with all her might, repeated powerlessly,

“I feel bad ... I feel bad ...”

He took her by the shoulders sternly and said,

“You can not do it this way. You are an adult, but you behave like a capricious child.”

She pursed her lips and looked into his eyes sternly.

“I didn’t invent this war,” She said firmly. “And it’s even harder for me because I can’t blame myself for starting it. Until the very end, I prayed it would not start. Maybe I could do something else, but I don’t know what.”

“Sit down,” he ordered. “Sit down, and let’s talk. Tell me everything.”

He was tough with Her, but She knew He would never harm Her.

“Good,” she breathed. “I just don’t know what to start with.”

“Start with what is easier for you.”

“I hate war, I hate death, violence. But I hoped and did not believe that this story would have a happy ending. That is, they will not start bombing. I prayed to the end that this would not happen. Maybe I was only doing my duty to calm my conscience? But didn’t it hurt me to see people suffer? Oh God, that’s right, the inner mission that I have taken on myself is beyond my strength. It is so?”

“It isn’t,” he laughed. “And you know it yourself. You are very strong. You know how to ward off misfortune.”

“Out of thy mouth to God’s ears. How many misfortunes have I warded off?”

“Enough.”

“Well, that’s good. You know, I used to want to know the future as soon as possible, and then I thought: what if, when I finally unravel these prophecies, they really come true? And now I, like Penelope, who kept weaving and unraveling her carpet, slowly walk towards my goal, but I feel calmer when I see it is still far away.”

“I know,” he said. “You thought it was your life’s work, and now you doubt it.”

“I doubt everything, even my faith.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and massaged them slowly. She stood facing the window, and it filled Her heart with a presentiment of happiness, which even now occasionally visited Her. She felt good. However, She turned around and, squeezing His hands lightly, said in a sad voice:

“Do you remember, in La Bruyère: ‘The sight of certain miseries makes one ashamed of being happy.’”

“Should we get crazy because the world has gone crazy?” he asked quickly. She smiled, shrugged, and sank into a chair. A lovely woman—one could call Her at that moment. He sat down opposite her. Face to face, eye to eye...

“I seem to get off the topic. What was I talking about? Ah yes, the sense of accomplishment. What happened next? How many times have I dreamt of a war! And one day I thought: if this war were here, next to me, what would I do? I always thought that I would have acted unambiguously: I would have become a sister of mercy, I would have saved people. And what do you think? I would take a machine gun and start shooting! Where have the non-violence and the mercy that I so revered gone? Do these words mean nothing to me anymore? What happened to me, my dear?”

It was the cry of her broken heart. He took her hands in his silently.

“Stop torturing yourself,” he said with emotion. “War is not for normal people.”

“Yes, sure. But I can’t split my heart. These countries that are now fighting there they mean a lot to me. I can’t hate them.”

She burst into tears and dropped her head on his shoulder.

“Stop crying,” He said, turning Her face towards him gently. “You shouldn’t hate them. They don’t know what they are doing.”

She calmed down a bit and walked back and forth across the room.

“I’m so tired of their lies,” she breathed. “Everywhere you look, there are lies everywhere. I want to know the truth, even if it is worse than their lies.”

She went to the window and shouted with a terrible moan, which is worse than any tears:

“No happiness for me! There is no happiness for those who follow the Lord’s path! What awaits him? ‘They have blown the trumpet, even to make all ready; but none goeth to the battle.’ ‘An adversary there shall be even round about the land.’ ‘Frowardness is in his heart.’ How true, how terrible these words are!”

He jumped up, grabbed Her by the shoulders and shook her several times.

“Words! Why do you believe in the words and do not believe yourself? Why do you want to be weak?”

“I do not want to!” She exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. “Strength! See what your beloved power is doing now! She takes life! I don’t even have normal prayers left! Do you want to hear my last prayer? ‘So that the clouds prevented them from throwing bombs!’ But I used to know how to pray so beautifully!”

“But this prayer is sincere,” He laughed and embraced Her. “Do not be offended. I do everything for you.”

She remembered the happy days they had spent together. How happy she was with him! How happy She is with Him now! She suddenly felt a mad thirst for life. “I want to live!” she exclaimed to herself. Love is Her only treasure, He is Her only love. She wished He would now take Her by the hand and commandingly say, “Let’s go.” She wanted them to fly to heaven together, just like they used to.

He stood and looked at her, smiling.

“Call me if you feel bad,” He said and added, “I love you.”

“You didn’t let me say it first,” she said. “But I’ll still say it. I love you.”

He smiled again and disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared. She was alone.

She didn’t feel alone. She knew He existed. She knew she could feel Him in everything if she tried very hard, and she hoped that, despite all the absurdity of life, there were still miracles in the world.

She went to the window and opened it again. She smelled the fresh scent of spring.