Free Conceived Without Sin by Bud Macfarlane Page B

those cloth things around your necks–"
    "You mean my scapular?"
    "Yeah, the scapular. Buzz told me about scapulars.They're supposed to get you into heaven faster or something. To me, they're just pieces of cloth. I'm sorry, I'm not ragging on your religion. As far as I can tell, you and Buzz are the first Catholics I've ever known who practice what you preach. Several of my workers are Catholics, but they don't act like you or Buzz."
    "Thank you," was all she could say at first. Then, "We're just normal Catholics,you know, Sam. Just because most Catholics don't practice what they preach doesn't mean that those that do are somehow abnormal."
    "Then exceptional is a better word," he responded.
    "Fair enough. By the way, the scapular is just a piece of cloth to me, too. My Miraculous Medal is just a piece of metal. It's what they stand for that's so meaningful. They stand for Our Lady's love for us. That'sreal, but we can't see love, so God gives us ordinary things we can see to remind us of what we can't see."
    "If you can't see it, then how do you know it's really there?" Sam asked sincerely.
    "How do you know the wind is there? Have you ever seen wind?" she asked right back.
    "Yes, I've seen–" he cut himself off. "Actually, I've never seen wind, just its effects…"
    "Well, God's love is grace, andgrace is God's wind. I can't see it, but I feel and see its effects."
    "Then how come I can't feel grace? I can see the trees moving in the wind." His tone was calm. This was not an unusual conversation since meeting Buzz and Donna.
    "I don't know. Maybe you need some leaves to catch the wind," she offered.
    The beers came. They ordered a large pizza. Sam took a sip and smiled.
    "All very poetic,Donna. But that doesn't apply to me. How am I going to get leaves? It's all so confusing."
    "Well, I'm not confused. Maybe I was getting too poetic there. Maybe you need a sail. So you can move toward God. You're like a very efficient sailor doing all sorts of work on a ship lost at sea. Polishing brass. Cooking meals. Steering the rudder here and there, but the wind blows by you because your sailsaren't up. You won't get anywhere.
    "Buzz is wrong about you. Buzz thinks he can talk you into becoming a Catholic. I doubt he's ever talked anybody into Catholicism. He can talk us into watching videos with him; he can talk us into going where he wants us to go. Remember how he got us to agree to come here after work with just a phone call? He's a charming bully. But talking with you about thefaith is like talking with that sailor on the ship lost at sea. Talk talk talk; but the ship goes nowhere. You've got to put up your sails for yourself."
    "Nice. But what exactly is 'putting up your sails?'" he asked.
    "Don't you know by now, Sam Fisk? Buzz is right, you are thick."
    "Don't tease me. What is it?"
    "It's praying, Sam. You have to pray. Praying is putting up your sails. God doesn'tneed to hear what you have to say. You need to listen." She rolled her eyes, but only a little.
    "I've tried," he told her, "but I don't hear anything."
    "I know," she said. She looked him in the eye. "Don't worry about it. Keep trying. It'll come."
    "How can you be so sure? How do you know that's what I want or need? I haven't tried very hard. I sat in the easy chair in my apartment a couple oftimes, and during commercials I told the nothingness, 'Okay, I'm listening. Is anybody out there?' Then I heard nothing, except for really arrogant commercials for those new Infinities."
    "Infinities? See the connection? God is infinite. Maybe that was a sign. You know, ordinary things stand for unseen realities."
    "God speaking through a commercial on television? Does God come with leather interiors?"
    "Yeah, it does sound kind of goofy, Sam."
    "So where does that leave me?" he asked politely.
    "I'm not sure. I do know that you are the real thing, a good guy, a friend, Sam. And that people always want what they don't have. My older sister told me that."
    "What do I want