Hello dear ones and welcome to today's short story.
Martyr had been devout since childhood.
She fasted on the proper days,
Attended every service.
And kept a small shrine in her bedroom with a candle she lit each morning.
She was,
By every measure she knew.
A good woman.
So it disturbed Marta greatly when the priest assigned a young novice named Brother Thomas to help at the parish.
And she found herself unable to stand him.
It wasn't anything he did.
He was polite,
Gentle.
But there was something about his certainty that irritated her.
The easy way he spoke of grace,
As though it were a cup of water he could pour for anyone.
She found reasons to criticize him in her private thoughts.
And the criticisms felt righteous to her.
One evening,
During her prayers,
She had an image come to her.
Lots of vision.
But a sudden interior picture of a great castle with many rooms.
She was standing in the outermost room,
Near the door.
Quiet near the cold and the dark outside.
She understood.
Without being told.
That she had never moved further in.
She had been maintaining the exterior of a spiritual life.
The fasts,
The shrine,
The correct prayers.
And had confused the house's front door for its heart.
The irritation she felt toward Thomas,
She saw now.
Was simply herself bumping into herself.
His easy joy offended the part of her.
That had been working very hard.
Without joy for a very long time.
She sat with this for a while.
The next morning she asked Thomas to tell her what he meant when he spoke of grace so simply.
It looked surprised to be asked.
Then he smiled.
Hold up a chair.
And began to tell her.
She didn't agree with all of what he said.
But she listened.
And somewhere.
In the interior of a house she had never visited.
A door opened for her.
Into another room.
