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"But you were willing to accept those risks!"
"I am willing. But they are my risks."
I wanted to interrupt him, but he wasn't listening.
"So yesterday, I asked a miracle of the Virgin," he continued. "I asked that She take away my gift."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"I have a little money and all the experience that years of traveling have given me. We'll buy a house, I'll get a job, and I'll serve God as Saint Joseph did, with the humility of an anonymous person. I don't need miracles in my life anymore to keep the faith. I need you."
My legs were growing weak, and I felt as if I might faint.
"And just as I was asking that the Virgin take away my gift, I began to speak in tongues," he went on. "The tongues told me, 'Place your hands on the earth. Your gift will leave you and return to the Mother's breast.'"
I was in a panic. "You didn't..."
"Yes. I did as the inspiration of the Holy Spirit bade. The fog lifted, and the sun shone on the mountains. I felt that the Virgin understood--because She had also loved so greatly."
"But She followed Her man! She accepted the path taken by Her son!"
"We don't have Her strength, Pilar. My gift will be passed on to someone else--such gifts are never wasted.
"Yesterday, from that bar, I phoned Barcelona and canceled my presentation. Let's go to Zaragoza--you know the people there, and it's a good place for us to start. I'll get a job easily."
I could no longer think.
"Pilar!" he said.
But I was already climbing back through the tunnel--this time without a friendly shoulder to lean on--pursued by the multitude of the sick who would die, the families that would suffer, the miracles that would never be performed, the smiles that would no longer grace the world, and the mountains that would remain in place.
I saw nothing--only the darkness that engulfed me.
Friday, December 10, 1993
ON THE BANK of the River Piedra I sat down and wept. My memory of that night is confused and vague. I know that I almost died, but I can't remember his face nor where he took me.
I'd like to be able to remember all of it--so that I could expel it from my heart. But I can't. It all seems like a dream, from the moment when I came out of that dark tunnel into a world where darkness had already fallen.
There was not a star in the sky. I remember vaguely walking back to the car, retrieving my small bag, and beginning to wander at random. I must have walked to the road, trying to hitch a ride to Zaragoza--with no success. I wound up returning to the gardens at the monastery.
The sound of water was everywhere--there were waterfalls on all sides, and I felt the presence of the Great Mother following me wherever I walked. Yes, She had loved the world; She loved it as much as God did--because She had also given Her son to be sacrificed by men. But did She understand a woman's love for a man?
She may have suffered because of love, but it was a different kind of love. Her Groom knew everything and performed miracles. Her husband on earth was a humble laborer who believed everything his dreams told him. She never knew what it was to abandon a man or to be abandoned by one. When Joseph considered expelling Her from their home because She was pregnant, Her Groom in heaven immediately sent an angel to keep that from happening.
Her son left Her. But children always leave their parents. It's easy to suffer because you love a person, or the world, or your son. That's the kind of suffering that you accept as a part of life; it's a noble, grand sort of suffering. It's easy to suffer for a cause or a mission; this ennobles the heart of the person suffering.
But how to explain suffering because of a man? It's not explainable. With that kind of suffering, a person feels as if they're in hell, because there is no nobility, no greatness--only misery.
That night, I slept on the frozen ground, and the cold anesthetized me. I thought I might die without a covering--but where could I find one? Everything that was most important in my life had been given so generously to me in the course of one week--and had been taken from me in a minute, without my having a chance to say a thing.
My body was trembling from the cold, but I hardly noticed. At some point, the trembling would stop. My body's energy would be exhausted from trying to provide me with heat and would be unable to do anything more. It would resume its customary state of relaxation, and death would take me in its arms.
I shook for another hour. And then peace came.
Before I closed my eyes, I began to hear my mother's voice. She was telling a story she had often told me when I was a child, not realizing it was a story about me.
"A boy and a girl were insanely in love with each other," my mother's voice was saying. "They decided to become engaged. And that's when presents are always exchanged.
