Yearning Apotheosis (11)

  
   "Yearning Apotheosis (11)"
   
   It was Sunday, and Britt Flynn was caged for having another nightmarish frenzy; moreover, Sister Cindy's vociferous intervention did not persuade his release this time, even though it was ignited with electric-blue communication; hence, she remembered when Christ did not heal at one point, having been "amazed" at their lack of faith; regardless, she held her head high unto the Lord and went to Mass as the peasant Nun she was.
   Furthermore, the pseudo-like sermon ignited her melancholy deeper, for the Priest had said that God did not answer Christ's prayer, when He mentioned:  "Father, do not let me drink of this cup, but Thy Will be done."  Did the Priest not know the Scriptures?  About tearing this house down, and it being rebuilt in a Trinity of days?  Or how nobody takes His life, but He gives it freely, openly admitting this before His obedience unto death?  Or how He denied the Adder's attempt to give Him fame and riches, knowing His doomed yet glorious ignition at Calvary?  Indeed, Sister Cindy was having a bad day, yet she knew the shocked and overly-sober Britt Flynn was even under more oppression from the camouflaged and fallen.
   She went to get pizza anyway.  Rubbing the Crucifix that hung boldly between her breasts, untouched by any man for a decade.  She only made love to the Trinity in an energy format; plus, the sublimity of the Celestial Hierarchy.  So, she had hope; moreover, faith.  Trust in God that Britt Flynn would find his Irish charm, and sweetly sane himself into only fearing God--the beginning of wisdom; next, adoration and love for the Father arrives, almost as if a friendship.
   She suffered in silence, though had victory, knowing the promised culmination of Adamkind, which is true life wending eternal for the laboring and faithful.