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Verse
Star
- Joined
- May 8, 2011
Merci Mon Dieu.... Sister Mary Francis crossed her self and stood up from her kneeling position in the garden, It was a beautiful day, one most certainty God had gifted and granted her. Her convent had been the home to many nuns who did the work of the Lord. Some went on missions, some helped out in local churches, others still helped out at various local charities.
But not her. Her gifts lay in organizing, and upkeep of the convent. I guess you could say her strengths were in logistics. She kept the convent running. She made sure the shelves were stocked. Oh she had a devil of a time getting enough eggs for the local orphanage Easter egg hunt. She kept all the itinerary of the nuns abroad... except for when she mistook Kansas City , Missouri for Kansas the state.... she had to do a lot of hail Mary's for penance after that one.
Lately though her thoughts had been very troubled. She asked God for guidance but none came. It was mostly surrounding the carnal desires and the sins of the flesh. She had forsaken all else long ago when she became a bride of Christ, but lately her mind had been wandering. It was innocent stuff really at the moment, but her thoughts were intruding on every day life now, and she found it was beginning to cause her to lose focus.
Why Just the other day she saw some men across the street from the convent and thought about how handsome they looked... it caused her to drop the rake she was holding.....
It was then that she received the letter that her convent was to receive a Padre on a long visit from the Vatican. A great spiritual leader.... Right away she set about making every thing just right for his arrival. She pent 3 hrs on her knees praying for wisdom and guidance. "Oh Mon Dieu please accept me as I am am and let me learn from this great teacher whom I know you have sent for me to learn from. Amen"
-
Lorenzo Avini had a good couple of years.
Low of birth but high in pride, he'd always seen some kinship with the eloquent men ahead of the pews. His own village was devout, of course, so when he started arguing about the wants of man, and how they may be holy too, derived from divine inclinations, his mother had worried. But as soon as someone other than their podunk padre heard him, he'd been on a fast track within the white walls of the large corridors that were said to house faith itself.
Coming of age only recently, and having spoken to powerful men who had their own dark proclivities, his power had grown exponentially. The church needed a new view, and he was it. He talked about lusts and obtaining them in ways that excused some of the worse of the cardinals and bishops. He was beloved in their echelon because they liked someone who could strike out their sins. But since he still had all his hair, and no grays yet, they couldn't give him all the influence that may be owed him. They needed an excuse, and were happy to allow his roaming, to delay his ascension within the ranks. Until then, he would enjoy their full support.
Unofficially, he was whispered about as someone who understood the good word better than most. He was asked to translate and mediate some dispute, and his authority grew. His silver tongue was buying him the world. And he ate it up. He saw the corruption, and didn't hate it, he wanted to spread it, but make it his own flavor. And they let him do it in style. A life on the road with the Vatican backing you, was still luxurious.
He blessed many maidens on his way.
And now he'd come here.
This place wasn't Rome. But it was perfectly lovely in its own small way. He discovered that places like these had a fervency about their belief that would let him conduct miracles with their hearts. He would rather play with village belles than trifle with a spoiled city flowers, any day. The yokels had darker pussies and loftier minds.
His transport arrived.
He stepped out in a black robe with white trim. His body was long, youthful. Simple, but his pretty shape made up for what he didn't use in finery. Black hair in soft waves, away from his face. Green eyes. Red, lying lips. This convent was lovely. Simple and unassuming, but he'd make this his purgatory, for now. It was the flavor of the nuns that mattered. Those faith-soaked, devoted playthings provided to him. Grazie Roma. Cut by his silver tongue.
He looked around and started walking. He was early, and was eager to see what this Sister Mary Francis would be like. She would change by the time he was done with her. All the more important to see who she was, before.
But not her. Her gifts lay in organizing, and upkeep of the convent. I guess you could say her strengths were in logistics. She kept the convent running. She made sure the shelves were stocked. Oh she had a devil of a time getting enough eggs for the local orphanage Easter egg hunt. She kept all the itinerary of the nuns abroad... except for when she mistook Kansas City , Missouri for Kansas the state.... she had to do a lot of hail Mary's for penance after that one.
Lately though her thoughts had been very troubled. She asked God for guidance but none came. It was mostly surrounding the carnal desires and the sins of the flesh. She had forsaken all else long ago when she became a bride of Christ, but lately her mind had been wandering. It was innocent stuff really at the moment, but her thoughts were intruding on every day life now, and she found it was beginning to cause her to lose focus.
Why Just the other day she saw some men across the street from the convent and thought about how handsome they looked... it caused her to drop the rake she was holding.....
It was then that she received the letter that her convent was to receive a Padre on a long visit from the Vatican. A great spiritual leader.... Right away she set about making every thing just right for his arrival. She pent 3 hrs on her knees praying for wisdom and guidance. "Oh Mon Dieu please accept me as I am am and let me learn from this great teacher whom I know you have sent for me to learn from. Amen"
-
Lorenzo Avini had a good couple of years.
Low of birth but high in pride, he'd always seen some kinship with the eloquent men ahead of the pews. His own village was devout, of course, so when he started arguing about the wants of man, and how they may be holy too, derived from divine inclinations, his mother had worried. But as soon as someone other than their podunk padre heard him, he'd been on a fast track within the white walls of the large corridors that were said to house faith itself.
Coming of age only recently, and having spoken to powerful men who had their own dark proclivities, his power had grown exponentially. The church needed a new view, and he was it. He talked about lusts and obtaining them in ways that excused some of the worse of the cardinals and bishops. He was beloved in their echelon because they liked someone who could strike out their sins. But since he still had all his hair, and no grays yet, they couldn't give him all the influence that may be owed him. They needed an excuse, and were happy to allow his roaming, to delay his ascension within the ranks. Until then, he would enjoy their full support.
Unofficially, he was whispered about as someone who understood the good word better than most. He was asked to translate and mediate some dispute, and his authority grew. His silver tongue was buying him the world. And he ate it up. He saw the corruption, and didn't hate it, he wanted to spread it, but make it his own flavor. And they let him do it in style. A life on the road with the Vatican backing you, was still luxurious.
He blessed many maidens on his way.
And now he'd come here.
This place wasn't Rome. But it was perfectly lovely in its own small way. He discovered that places like these had a fervency about their belief that would let him conduct miracles with their hearts. He would rather play with village belles than trifle with a spoiled city flowers, any day. The yokels had darker pussies and loftier minds.
His transport arrived.
He stepped out in a black robe with white trim. His body was long, youthful. Simple, but his pretty shape made up for what he didn't use in finery. Black hair in soft waves, away from his face. Green eyes. Red, lying lips. This convent was lovely. Simple and unassuming, but he'd make this his purgatory, for now. It was the flavor of the nuns that mattered. Those faith-soaked, devoted playthings provided to him. Grazie Roma. Cut by his silver tongue.
He looked around and started walking. He was early, and was eager to see what this Sister Mary Francis would be like. She would change by the time he was done with her. All the more important to see who she was, before.