Chapter Fifty-One

This is becoming a habit, Father. This is the second time I’ve helped you move in almost twenty five years.”

“I know. It must be a considerable burden on you, Henry,” Father Engelmann quipped back. Henry and Father stared at each other and chuckled.

“Just wait here for a moment; there is a book in the study which I want to take with me. I’ll just be a moment.”

“Oh, that’s fine, Father, take your time.”

As Henry stood in the foyer he stared at the suitcase before him. It was the same one he had carried to the car for Mr. Engelmann after he had sold his grocery store and decided to become a priest. All of his worldly possessions: his Bible, the holy cross which hung in their bedroom, and his wedding suit, were in that suitcase.

Henry smiled at the thought. From a worldly point of view, one would say he really wasn’t very successful. That he didn’t have a lot to show for all these years. Most people amass a small or large fortune during that time and yet, Mr. Engelmann, or rather, Father Engelmann, still carried the same old suitcase with the same contents it had held twenty five years before.

But, what Father had gained over the years had made him perhaps the richest man in the world. He had freed himself from the pursuit of materialism and devoted his life to seeking and gaining the treasures the Lord gives to those who follow him. His sermon last Sunday was on that very topic. Wow, what a homily. It was his last message to his flock and still reverberated in his mind. One of the scriptural passages he quoted stung his heart: “What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and suffers the loss of his soul in the process.”

Henry had such a good teacher in Father, such a good example to emulate and still he struggled and toiled excessively in making monetary gain his chief goal. His worth, his value as a person, his success all seemed to be so inextricably tied up with what he owned and achieved.

Will he ever be able to really let go, become detached, content and make the Lord the first and sole centre of his life?

Well, Father Engelmann certainly didn’t have two masters. He was living proof of one who had placed Jesus at the centre of his life.

Henry still couldn’t believe that Father was actually retiring. After a lifetime with Anna and the grocery store and another lifetime dedicated to the Lord’s service, it was time for Father to finally step down.

But was he really retiring?

He might have freed himself from most of his parish responsibilities, but almost daily he seemed to be expanding his outreach to another flock.

Wherever he felt there was a need, Father worked tirelessly to fill it. He visited all the hospitals and care homes. One would have thought he’d be exhausted, and would need to slow down and take more time to rest. Amazingly however, the more he gave of himself, the younger he grew, the more energy he received to do God’s work. Henry still didn’t know exactly how old Father was in years. He was getting up there, yet he looked in his seventies, and behaved like he was in his forties.

Henry was still amazed over the events that had led to Father’s decision to retire. He could still picture Father Knuka standing there before the congregation waiting for the Lord to touch him in a special way and He did; Father Knuka was given the gift of tongues and filled with the power of the Holy Spirit.

It was shortly after that incredible happening, which many of the people considered a miracle, that Father Engelmann began to talk about leaving. It was the sign he had been waiting for; the church was in good hands and could be entrusted to the young priest.

Henry wondered what was keeping, Father. He turned and looked through the window out onto the front yard of the rectory. The long sidewalk leading up to the rectory made Henry think of the path Father would now follow. He recalled thinking those same thoughts when he dropped Father off so long ago. Henry knew Father would never retire from doing the Lord’s work. The path before him would simply lead to another journey the Lord had prepared for him. Henry suspected the Lord had already shown Father what his next project was.

After a few more moments, he heard Father approaching from the end of the hall, whistling his favourite melody, ‘His Peace is Flowing Like a River.’

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Henry,” Father said as he stepped into the light of the foyer. “I went to see the cook to remind her that I wouldn’t be here for supper, tonight, and…well, you know how hard it is to say good-bye.”

“That’s fine, Father. Are you ready to go?”

“I’m always ready to do the Lord’s work, Henry.”

Henry picked up Father’s suitcase and made his way to the door. It seemed lighter than before, and by the sounds of it, all that was inside were his Bible and the cross.

“Boy, this gets lighter all the time, Father.”

“It may not seem like much, but it contains all the wisdom in the world.” Father winked at Henry and smiled. “When the movers moved my bed to the care home the other day, I sent my priestly clothes and my wedding suit along with them.”

Henry smiled. He had guessed accurately the contents of the suitcase. It was lighter because his suit was missing. It reminded Henry of the first time he saw Father Engelmann wearing his wedding suit. It was at Mrs. Engelmann’s funeral. Everyone expected to see Mr. Engelmann in a mournful state. Much to everyone’s surprise, however, Mr. Engelmann wore both the attire and an expression that was more appropriate for a wedding than a funeral. His light tan suit with the bright yellow geranium in his lapel and his smile, contrasted with the congregants who were dressed in traditional black and saddened faces.

A feeling of uneasiness swept through Henry as he continued to think of Mr. Engelmann’s suit as they walked to the SUV.

It wasn’t the death of Anna that gnawed inside Henry’s stomach, rather it was the unforgettable memory of the prince charming dream he had the day he met Jenny when he fell asleep before taking her to Balfour Collegiate. He had often wondered if the man wearing the yellow suit and yellow flower in his lapel lying on the bed of daisies where Jenny had lain was Mr. Engelmann, especially now that Mr. Engelmann was older and looked so much more like the man in his dream. The thought of the faceless man wearing a black cloak who held him back from getting to Jenny and the man in the tan suit, sent quivering coldness down his spine just as it had done back then. Henry was relieved as the clink of Father Engelmann’s seat belt buckle snapped him out of his reverie.

“What is wrong Henry, you look flushed and feverish?”

Henry wiped the perspiration off his forehead with the back of his hand and shook his head. “Oh, it’s nothing Father.” Henry forced a smile.

Father studied Henry for a moment longer then turned and gazed once more at the rectory, “this has been a very good second home and now I am going to my third and…perhaps last.”

Henry knew that last day would come, and preferred not to think on it. He fired up the engine.

Neither of them spoke as they drove to Father’s new home, both absorbed in their own thoughts. When Father had first talked about leaving the parish, he had considered the option to go back to Gravelbourg and retire at the seminary or at one of the fine retreat centres on the west coast, but Father declined to go to either. He saw more beauty in reaching out to people in need than mountain scenery or living a secluded life in a seminary.

He had also considered going into a senior high-rise, which housed about hundred people or so. In the end however, the Archbishop knew Father would consider them all his flock and be just as busy as he had been in the parish, if not more. He convinced Father it would be too much for him. Reluctantly, Father agreed to a smaller facility.

An ambulance was parked in front of the Nunnery Care Home as Henry pulled up behind. Someone was either checking in or out, Henry thought.

“Well, here we are, Father, your new home.”

Father was gazing at the ambulance, his lips moving in prayer… “Ah, yes, here it is my new home…”

Like the rectory, The Nunnery Care Home had a brick veneer and sprawled across two city lots. There were no windows facing the street and the oak door was devoid of windows, as well. It was almost like a fortress, shutting out the world outside. A long walkway led up to the door. In a sense, the similarity cushioned Father’s transition into his retirement home.

As they walked up the walkway to the front door, it suddenly opened. An ambulance attendant was backing out guiding a gurney. An attendant was at the other end. Henry grabbed the door and held it open. As the gurney passed through the door it bumped into the door frame wobbling it. Henry instinctively reached out to steady it and in doing so touched the patient’s arm. Instantly, an indescribable energy surged through him. He turned and looked at the patient, but all he saw was the back of the patients head wearing a blue bandana.

“My good Lord, what was that?” Henry muttered, the energy still zinging through him.

“Are you okay, Henry? You look so pale and white again…”

“Oh, … I’m fine Father.”

Henry continued to stare at the attendants loading the patient into the back. He felt a strong compulsion to go to the patient. He let go of the door and when it slammed shut the sound snapped him back to the reality of the moment. He watched as the ambulance sped down the street, then slowly turned and rang the doorbell.

As they waited for an attendant to answer the door, Henry reviewed in his mind the reasons Father had selected this care home. First, it was near a Catholic church where he could attend mass if he wanted to. But more importantly, the care home at one time had been a convent. It was occupied by the Sisters of the Precious Blood. As time went on, fewer and fewer nuns were recruited and the ones there, were getting on in age, and were sent back to the Mother House in Ontario.

Father must have been reading Henry’s thoughts…

“I would like you to see the chapel before you leave, Henry. It is one of the main reasons I selected this care home. I hope they will allow me to say daily mass.”

The door opened and a young girl peeked out.

“Oh, you must be Father Engelmann, our new resident.”

“Yes, that’s me. I’m here to make my new home.”

“Well, please come in, Father, my name is Angela.”

“Your mom and dad must have thought they gave birth to an angel to name you that.”

“Maybe so, Father, but my yelling and screaming soon made them realize otherwise.”

They all laughed.

“This is Henry, Angela, I consider him my son. He is helping me make this move, today.”

“Oh, that’s nice. It’s good to have some support when starting something new. But I assure you, Father, you will quickly feel at home, here.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure I will.”

“Please follow me, I will show you to your room.”

“I think I still remember where it is. I looked at it about three weeks ago.”

They walked down the long hall which was flooded with light from a huge inner courtyard. All of the bedrooms lay around the perimeter of the care home with a large window facing the hallway to receive the light as well as the beautiful view of the flower-filled courtyard. The rooms also had a small narrow window facing the outside, but it was more for ventilation and didn’t interfere with their privacy. The doors to most rooms were open and occupants just stared with a blank look as they walked by, probably wondering what a priest was doing there.

They turned at the end of the hallway and passed the kitchen, bright and sunny, as it too faced the courtyard. They stopped and briefly looked at the huge table.

“The table of the Lord,” Father muttered under his breath, “I shall soon meet my flock.”

When Father Engelmann turned towards her, Angela took that as her cue to continue on.

“Well, here it is,” said Angela, as she stopped, turned, and with the same motion swung her right arm towards the open door to Father’s room. Father passed by her first then Henry followed. Henry didn’t tell Father that he had already been to this room. He had stopped by two days earlier to hang a painting.

It was a fairly large room, with a single bed against the far wall. A night table with a lamp, which was turned on, stood next to the bed. It gave off a nice warm yellow glow and provided a welcoming atmosphere. Father’s chair sat next to the table and lamp. The window just behind the chair was larger than the ones in the other rooms and faced south. That was another reason why Father liked this care home.

Father hadn’t noticed his special surprise yet, as they studied another painting Henry had given him shortly after he moved into the rectory. It was a prairie landscape with a full crop swaying in the summer sun. It was ripe and golden and ready to be harvested. In the mid-ground was the town of Lipton with its three grain elevators, several homes and buildings, and the town church just off a bit at the edge of the town. The care home must have hung it after Henry had brought in the other painting.

The landscape painting hung above a chest of drawers, covered with a long table cloth which Henry surmised Anna had crocheted. On top, sat a single, framed picture of Father Engelmann and Anna on their wedding day. There was no television set, no radio. Henry knew as soon as he left, Father would immediately have his Bible out of the suitcase and onto the night table beside his chair.

“Well, Father, you should be very comfortable, here.”

“I feel like I am in the Hotel Saskatchewan, spoiled already.” Father turned towards Angela to thank her for showing him to his room, but she was no longer there. It was then that he noticed the other painting on the wall across from his chair.

He was silent for a long moment as the memory of that poignant scene consumed him. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph help me. Ach mein lieber Gott” He took a couple of steps forward, and then a few more until he was but three feet in front of a scene that captured the love he and Anna had shared even in death. It was a moment frozen on canvas and now melting in Father’s heart.

It was just as Henry had burned it into his memory and then sketched it in his room the morning after Anna had died. Henry knew it would not be a reminder to Father of Anna’s death, but rather of the life they shared, and the eternal life Anna was enjoying with her Lord. In the centre of it all was the holy cross – the Giver of life, the One in the centre of their life and their marriage.

Only now as Father wiped away the tears blurring his vision did he see his guardian angel faintly superimposed against the background behind him. And on the other side of the room in the painting was Anna’s protector, as well, welcoming her.

“Henry, you have captured it all. You are a Rembrandt!”

Father turned towards the master painter and they stepped into each other’s arms and wept.

“Words fail to express my gratitude, Henry.”

“If only my heart could speak.”

Angela tapped lightly on the door not sure if she should interrupt Father and Henry. They parted and looked through tear-filled eyes at their lovely young host.

“I was just admiring the painting Henry has done for me—”

“Yes, we all saw it the other day when Mr. Pederson brought it in. It is truly so beautiful. You must have loved your wife so dearly, Father. It still brings tears to my eyes seeing you hold her hand.”

“Yes, she is and always will be my first and only love.”

“And the angels!” Angela blurted out, “Makes it perfect. I pray to mine every night.” Her eyes, when she said that, brightened so much Henry thought they would pop out of their sockets.

“Do you want me to show you the rest of the place before dinner, Father?”

“That’s not necessary, Angela, I was already given the tour.”

“Well, Father, if you want to unpack…” Henry caught himself. What was there to unpack – his Bible and the cross? That would take all of two minutes.

Father smiled.

“Oh, I can do that later, Henry. Come, let me show you the rest of the place. I will give you the tour the owner gave me the other day.” Father said, as he briskly walked past Henry and out the door of his new home.

They retraced their steps of fifteen minutes or so ago, but this time instead of turning left at the end of the hallway, he went straight ahead into what could be considered a family room.

“This is where we all hang out,” Father quipped as they entered. “This is where you can relax, watch television, play cards and all that.”

The television at the far end of the room was turned on, surrounded by several chairs and two couches. Every spot in the room was occupied by a sleeping resident, but one. The resident watching TV turned towards them and smiled as they walked in.

“Hello, I am Father Engelmann, or David.” He extended his arm to her. She hesitated then extended her hand to Father’s.

A look of consternation gradually turned into a smile. “I’m Frances.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Frances. I just moved in and I am showing my good friend Henry, around.”

Henry stepped forward and shook Frances’ hand, as well.

She nodded and smiled without saying a word then turned her gaze back to the television. Father and Henry looked at one another.

“Come, let me show you the Chapel.”

Father walked past Henry and led him down the hallway to a closed door at the end. He opened the door, stepped inside, and disappeared. Henry jogged to catch the door before it closed. Father was already in a state of prayer before a lifelike crucifix hanging just behind the altar. It made Henry happy to see something Father loved and was familiar with. He loved the Church. This would make him feel truly at home.

Stations of the Cross lined the walls on either side and moveable chairs were neatly placed in rows facing the altar. Henry tried to visualize the nuns praying there every day and a priest coming from the parish down the street to say mass for them. There probably hadn’t been a mass in the chapel for a long time. But there soon would be one with Father living there.

It was going to be quite an adjustment for him. He could have stayed at the parish longer, but he felt called to this, to enter a care home. What on earth would he do here? The people were all so old. But, then again, so was Father. He just didn’t seem old. He was so active and alert. He didn’t really belong here. But Father and his Lord knew best.

“This is a very beautiful chapel,” whispered Henry, finally breaking the long silence.

“Yes, very nice, Henry. I feel comfortable, here. This is precisely where the Lord wants me. Soon you will see and understand. To me it’s like watching a show. The Lord is the producer and director. It’s always so exciting to see the movies unfold and play before my eyes. I simply listen to what he instructs me to do and then play out the scene. I give him an Oscar award for every performance, every movie he creates and I am always in awe of how creative He is in dealing with life’s challenges. You will soon see!”

“I have seen it many times, myself. I am as anxious as you are to see what the Lord has planned for this care home now that you are here. I think I will leave now, Father. I have things I need to do at the farm and Coco and Ginger need some attention.”

“Has Coco settled down a bit? She gets so excited when I come out there.”

“No, it takes years for chocolate labs to stop jumping up and down. The Golden Retriever on the other hand is the complete opposite, very calm. Yet, I must say that Ginger too gets very excited when I take them for a run. I love to see them run full stride beside the quad… Actually, Father, would you like to come out and spend the evening, I can drive you back in the morning?”

“No, thank you, Henry, I think I would like to spend the day here and have dinner with my new family.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I would like to spend a few days in your Poustinia before winter sets in, if I could. Three days there beside the still water, nature, and only God’s word for sustenance, and I feel renewed and ready again to do the Lord’s work.”

“Of course, Father, I’m so happy someone is using the prayer house. One of these days I will have to start using it myself. I know the Lord has an important lesson to teach me.”

“Take the time then, to learn it, my son. The day will come all too soon when school is out and we are accountable to the Teacher.”

Henry looked at Father knowing full well what he meant then walked towards him and hugged him.

“Thank you, Henry, for bringing me here and for that wonderful painting. I know how busy you are.” Father shook his head in appreciation.

“You’re welcome, Father, each brush stroke was a prayer of thanks to you and Anna.”

Father walked Henry to the front door.

“See, if I had taken up driving a car, I would have brought myself here and we wouldn’t have had this time, together. It’s a good thing I’m always dependent on someone,” said Father.

“Yes, Father, and I so look forward to driving you wherever you wish or want to go. The pleasure is always mine. May God bless your new home, Father.”

“Thank you, Henry.” Father patted Henry’s shoulder.

“I’ll see you this week sometime, Father.”

Father held the heavy oak door open and watched Henry walk out to his SUV.

“Thank you, Lord,” Father murmured, “For blessing Anna and my life with such a wonderful son.”