Minnie Goes to Heaven (97)

(a novel continued)
“What makes us able to decide someone should die—just because that person happens to be little and helpless and needs our body for a few months?” Sue said.

Silence.

Finally Minnie said, “Let’s pray. We’ll ask the Lord what we should be doing. Sometimes I think there is more sympathy on this earth for baby seals.”

They bowed their heads. Hannah surprised everyone, including herself, by praying, “Lord forgive us for murder.” She began to cry. Nan—prickly Nan—put her arm around her.

Sue prayed, “Lord tell us what we should do?”

They waited quietly for what seemed like an hour.

“Amen,” Minnie said. 
“So, what are you sensing?” 

“We should have a vigil, a silent vigil,” Sue said.

“At the hospital,” Brenda said.

“Every Tuesday for a month,” Melissa said.

“With candles,” Amy contributed.

“All in favour?” 

The decision was unanimous. The very next Tuesday they would meet at the hospital for a silent vigil.

When Minnie came home, Mary and John were in the front room watching a documentary on cults. Minnie commented on Mary’s ability to watch without getting unduly upset. 
“There are worse cults than at the compound,” Mary said. “At least Brandon wasn’t into group sex.”

John turned the TV off.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Minnie said.

“It was about over,” Mary said. “How was your evening?

Minnie told them about the planned vigils.

“What good will a vigil do?” Mary asked.

“I don’t know really,” Minnie said. “All I know it is what God is directing us to do and when He’s in charge the impossible happens.”

“It certainly does,” John said, “Look at what he did with the mold thing. The very next day after the prayer meeting....”

“Speaking of resolving issues,” Mary said, “I’ve been seriously thinking about what to do with my life.”

“And?” Minnie asked.

“And, I think I should go back to school. I would like to be a teacher. I love kids. I think I could teach.”

“You would be a great teacher,” John said.

“I agree,” said Minnie. “Remember when you arranged all your dolls on the couch and you would teach them the alphabet?”

“They never did learn it,” Mary said.

“It wasn’t for your lack of trying. “You were at them every day for months on end.”