Called for action

Frontiers, 1999 by Currans-Sheehan, Tricia

Mom had her rosary beads in one hand and her cane in the other. She was walking back and forth from the stained-glass window in the living room to the kitchen counter. She had bought the stained-glass window at the auction of the furnishings of the old church because it had been dedicated to her father. At the bottom of the window were the words: In Memory of Dominic Frederick LaTour 1938. And then Mom had hired Rolph from the lumberyard to put it in on the east side of the living room. Rolph had fixed the rotting casings and done what she asked. So there in her living room, every morning when the sun came up, stood the unsmiling and sneaky-looking Good Shepherd, holding a white lamb. The whole family had been embarrassed by this religious display, but they hadn't been able to stop Mom.

Nadine stood by the back door of the kitchen, tying the belt of her trench coat about her. It had begun raining in the night. The last thing she did was take the Call for Action button off her blouse and pin it on the lapel of her coat. Mom crossed herself a few more times and mumbled prayers to herself.

Nadine thought she'd be able to get away without any more fuss, but just as her hand was on the doorknob, Mom came shuffling forward with her cane in one hand. "I can't let you. I can't. All my years of work for the church will be destroyed if you do this."

"Ma, don't bring that up again. I'm doing this on my own."

Mom, five foot and shrinking, stood in front of the door. "Take the button off." She said it like she meant it.

Nadine shook her head. "I've had this on my coat for months."

"I don't care. Take that button off." Mom's voice trembled.

Nadine stood there for a minute, deciding what to do. She watched Mom to see if she was putting on an act. "I know, Ma, you can't ever make a stand against the Church, I know that. But I'm different. I can."

"Oh, you're different all right. You think its perfectly okay to break vows."

"Ma, let it go," Nadine said.

"I won't let it go. You broke that vow that you would be a nun for the rest of your life."

"Ma, don't bring that up again. That's in the past."

"Well, it's as fresh in my mind as if it happened yesterday. Your decision to break your vows about killed me."

Nadine shook her head. " Just leave it alone." She stepped to the door. "I'm going."

Ma shook her finger like she was back teaching country school. "Take that button off or you'll be excommunicated. He knows you. He knows me."

Nadine reached up and unpinned the button. "There," she said, trying to control her anger.

"Don't you know that during our lifetimes we are never going to see it happen-women won't be allowed to become priests. Just accept it."

"You can accept it, Mom, but I won't."

"Why do you always have to make such a big production of things? I'm an old lady and I want to live out my final days in peace."

"Then tell that to the bishop. Tell him he's the one to blame, not me." Nadine held the two-inch button and looked at the red letters-Call for Action. Masses of women should say the Mass. When she tried to slip it into her coat pocket, the button slipped from her hand and fell to the floor at her mother's feet. No one moved. Mom wasn't leaning down to get it. She acted like it was an object that would hurt her if she touched it.