Velentine Remembrance

 St. Valentine as told to me 

Note:Bless thee, Father, for without your love, we would still be lost.----------------------------------------

I do not know what lies ahead of me, as all I ever can see is a single dark image. It's the sight of one who is without the gift of sight. I may be without sight, and I was no clumsy lady of my age. I hear and smell better than most, and what I felt gave me shapes in my mind. I had felt the hand that led me that moment by the person I knew as my father. He was anxious to take care of me with his eyes. 

But many times, I have lamented to him that none may find the cure to my ailment as he calls it. I knew how he felt while his daughter sits by the patio listening to the sounds of others who may be in a play or on a stroll, but little does he know I can smell the lilac growing at the flower bed beside our home and the sound of the wind as it weaves through the spaces in between the houses.

"Aargh!" as my feet stepped on the damp floor of the place I was to venture with my father. 

"Father, pray tell me we are not going into your place of work. I find the smell there very uncomfortable." I had already picked up the pungent aroma of the place where he worked, for Mother used to bring me along when she was with us. 

Mother's then had left us. It was oce the time when the family could live as a whole and happiness prevail despite the pain of the infliction on their daughter. It ended with her passing and my father's inducement with liquor. His sleep in the night assisted by intoxication makes rest then a disturbing one while his snores kept me awake.

"We are here, my child." I felt the touch on the familiar walls of his workplace. It was damp and coated with the grime of dirt and waste. 

"Priest, I brought her now. Please do your merciful acts for us. I will pray to your God as if it's mine. Do it."

"Father, why do you speak in such rude words? Our faith is within us, and we may not impose on it, nor can we impose on it?" 

I was sad at my father for his shallow thoughts on the belief of the faith. Mother, when she was alive, used to take me to the place of worship, and we will pray on our faith. Most times for my recovery, as that was her main concern then. She used to drag my father along as he was not one of the strong believers, but he came along, for my sake. Like then.

"Hush, you girl. I am speaking to the priest." His words were a slap to me, for he rarely raised his voice towards me. I heard the shuffling then and the scent known to me of dirt and grime. There was a difference that day. The smell was there, but it was not pungent in my nostrils. It came then refreshing. 

What manner of man was I to meet?

"Fear not, my child. I meant you no harm. If you were to permit me your belief, I would like to extend mine. It's not any miracle I can do but the works of GOD. He works in many different ways that even I do not know how and why, but I leave it to his judgment on the action. I am but his faithful servant to serve his works here." 

I felt a hand on my forehead and then over my eyes. I remained still with my eyes shut tight, as even though I do not fear him. I could not move my body then. I was not in a spell. 

"I heard of your ailment from your father, but as I have said, I do no miracles. It's the work of God who does it. If he chooses to cure you, he will do so."

"I understand, Priest." I found the courage to speak then. "I do not impose on you for my recovery. I have been blind since birth, and all I need to see is within me. I do desire that I can see the things that others do. But one's desire and need can be a distance apart, never to be met. I am resigned to that fate." 

I knew myself from the days of those runs to see the healers in every corner, far and near. But none has done any, which will show me a slight belief that my sight will recover.

"Have faith, my child. GOD sometimes tests us in his works, but he is ever merciful in his grace. Maybe your ailment is not to be cured but a gift of the sort that you can work with." 

He may have spoken the truth, but my father was harsh to act. I can hear his whiplash on the priest as he cursed at the latter for the truth he may have spoken.

"Father, please do not do that. He speaks his mind, and I fear you are the one who cannot accept the truth." I reached out and found my father's arm. I pulled at him to stop his loathsome act on one who does us no harm except to speak his mind. 

"Forgive me, Priest. She is my only child and I do not want to see her walk alone when I am gone. You are a priest and have knowledge of the books. Pray teach her the words so that even if she were to be joining the convent, she might be a learned one and not a servant of the broom. I beg of thee for thy mercy in granting me this last wish." 

I was without sight but the rustling sound spoke to me that my father had  bent down to seek the priest's help.

"Arise, my jailer. I did say I cannot perform miracles, but GOD may. For what you asked later of me, it is not his work but mine. I can teach as I was taught, and she will learn as I have learned. But please heed, as what she would learn is my faith. If you can accept that, then the words I will impart to her will be the words of my faith to strengthen her beliefs in the way of God." 

I listened, and felt solace in his words. I felt enlightened in myself, as if I were free of my bonds. My mother was the other who could comfort like that. 

"Thank you, Priest. May I know your name, please?"  We were never introduced.

"My given name is Valentine. I am a priest of the House of God. I know your name, Rose, as your father has spoken of you to me. We can start our lesson as of now, as time is not on my side. Hush, Gaoler. I know my fate as well as you know the inmates in these cells. The Emperor will soon call on me for the execution, as he is vain and fears my influence on the numbers he calls his army. His decree that none may marry is against the Faith, as it's a selfish act of his thinking he is doing good for them. But MAN will fight well when he has a reason to fight, and what better reason than that of his family? None sits above his concern for his family, not even the emperor or king. He is a poor emperor with poor advisers around him. It will be his downfall if he does not get his ways corrected."

"Hush, Priest. I can save no more of you if you condemned the Emperor with your mouth. He is Almighty here, and his command is ours to order." 

I can sensed my father's fear for his Emperor, but I am sightless, and yet what is an Emperor to a Priest which both I cannot see? In my sight, they could be any image. I knew my father and mother well, as their image is defined by my mind, but if you asked me to describe it, it would be like telling you how an elephant can fly over the walls. 

Ha! That was what my mother told me once when I asked her to describe the boy next door. It's our line of jest in my sightless world."Rose, please sit by me. I would teach you not of written words but the spoken ones. They are faster and easier to pick up and, above all, remembered. But you must tell me when you tire or have other needs. Then I will continue on your return." 

I felt the calm hand on mine as he, who is a priest, led me to a place to sit by him. It was a hard surface and yet comfortable to sit on. 

"Thank you, Gaoler. Your offer of the drink would be much appreciated. Please sit, as my class need not be her alone. As a show of faith, I would teach all who would listen, as there is nothing to fear from the words of GOD."

Then it was to be a succession of days when I was to find myself with my father seated there with Valentine while he recites to us the words of his teaching. During those sessions, I heard the sounds of others who dwell in the other cells also lending their ears to this man of GOD. From the drones of his voice, I found fleeting images that shifted in my mind; one that cannot be described as it was the gift of the sightless only to see these images. 

I found my innerpeace seated by thes man and in return I brought him his daily bread for his meal. Wehn he speaks, his voice carried me to wonderful sights. I had sensed inside of me, the relief and enlightenment as if I were accepted by someone I could love and cherish.

It was to end that fearful day. I was on sickbed, and I was not able to move. I asked for the priest.  My father looked for the priest, and was asked to be given writing paper. He gave the priest his request, although it's unusual in the request. A note was written and told to hand to me. 

That day, guards came for the priest. My father knew what was awaiting the priest. 

My father approached the priest, and sought his forgiveness for I was not to come that day. 

"It is ordained, and I will walk the last day of my life alone. Do give the note I wrote for your daughter. Tell her not lose faith." My father took it from him with his face in sorrow, knowing that this was probably the last time he will hear the priest. 

With that done, the priest was led away from his cell by the others, leaving my father to cry in the cell alone. It was not him alone who cried, but the others who heard his words did the same. Some prayed for mercy from GOD for his soul and to deliver him from this world without pain. They are all willing to partake in his punishment in his place when their time comes. My father could not bear it anymore and he left for home to see me.

"Rose, Valentine asked me to give you this. He has been led to his execution at the Square." Father left the note in my hand while I lay on the bed. 

"Father, help me to sit please." I slowly opened the paper and felt my fingers over it. I felt nothing. It was just paper. I moved my eyes as if I had sight to see what was written. I asked for GOD's help in allowing me to see the paper as any living sighted person could. I laid my eyes on what was in my hand. Images started forming the image in my sight. It was coming in forms that I had not seen before. 

Was I seeing something different from my usual sight?I looked up and saw what appeared to be so different.

"Father?" It moved towards me. It was different, but I knew. It was my father, and I could see him then

GOD! I could see. My sight restored, and I can see it. I can see now what Valentine has told me for days to believe in: that GOD may be merciful to the ones who believe in HIM. 

Yes, I do. And I did because he taught me the ways of GOD. I looked at the paper now.It's an image of something, and yet it was pleasing... no, it was  beautiful then

"Father, what...is that I see in my hand?" I looked to my father for his assistance.

"It's the paper that Valentine gave you." I nodded my understanding, but I saw something on it. I pointed to it and asked him.

"It's a flower. It's a yellow crocus, which your mother used to plant in the garden." The flower had its petals floating from the stem and swayed around the room. It was ..beautiful to see colors.

"They are ....beautiful." I looked back at the paper and found something else on it."Father..."

"It's written by Valentine. He wrote it for you." I looked at him for to understand more. I could speak, but to read and write has not been my privilege.

"From Valentine; he wrote that for you. He loves you, Rose." My father hugged me for the first time since I recovered.

"No, Father, He loves me as I love Him for teaching me the words of GOD. He taught me how to love GOD, and in loving GOD, I learned to love HIM too. Just as much as I love you." 

Yes, Valentine taught us more than words. We shall be blessed that Valentine did not die in vain. He died for the love of the people to rejoice in the love of one another and also in GOD." 

For the first time, I cried since I recovered. I cried in joy as on this day, LOVE is declared with no barrier and imposed conditions.