New to the parish, Father Tim knew that the inner city of Chicago would be very different from rural Ohio. Born and bred in central Ohio. This was the biggest city he had ever seen.
Now in one day, here he was new home, new parish, and new parishioners.
Quite a lot to fathom for anyone. He was not surprised the devil was giving him trouble by telling him he would fail and fail miserably.
Father Patrick Thompson was young, and enthusiastic, convinced by his teachers he had a mission from God. He was to turn these fallen members of his congregation from the ways of the devil to the path of the Lord, and win the local basketball championship if possible.
He encountered his first problem, when he found out they had hardly any money. The next problem was the school was rat infested and had a leaky roof and broken windows. Last problem, for the day was the news that most of his students didn’t come to school anyway.
The next week he spent on the telephones. He got commitments for free flour, butter, eggs, milk, and bacon as long as it was used to feed the kids. Now that was a breakfast waiting to happen. He called around and soon the mothers had that organized. That Saturday they cleaned the gym stored all but the perishables in garbage cans he begged from the local hardware, the rest he stored at the rectory in their refrigerators. Monday morning they served breakfast to over one hundred people. It was a start. Breakfast with the already established lunch program meant that two out of three meals were available for his children. A well-fed child is a child who has the will and the stamina to study. Now he had to look for sources to feed their parents as well.
During breakfast, he meet some veterans who knew about an army surplus program that did community projects. He went to present his project and two weeks later. A platoon of marines turned up with material to roof, fix windows, tile, and paint his school. Now they had a working food program and a clean school. All he needed he asked God if it were not too much trouble, was some basketballs and a coach.
While he was out looking for food and volunteers for the lunch program, he ran into the coach. Paul Wilson a former NBA stars now in a wheelchair from a driveway shooting one night at the zenith of his career. He wasn’t anxious to help, had to be shamed into it for the sake of his little brother but help he did. He even begged the equipment and uniforms for the new team.
Father Tim was getting cocky. Anything and everything was going his way. He should have listened better to his mama who often told him Pride goes before a fall and the bigger the pride the harder the fall.
Father Tim’s fall was of course a woman. She came home early in the fall with a small child no money and no job. She moved in with Paul Wilson who was her brother until she could earn some and get her own place. She was young, honey skinned, large beautiful dark eyes, and the most exotic thing Father Tim had ever seen. It didn’t make it easier that when she feed her baby. He stood and saw the Madonna and the baby Jesus. He was in love with love, and what the baby and the girl represented of a world unknown to him. He was also horny but that part comes later.
We lust in our hearts, and who knows how it counts with God. Night after night, Father Tim woke up dreaming carnal thoughts of pure sweet Theresa. He never for a moment thought she arranged for him to see her feed the baby. That she was especially provocative when he was around. He was a baby in the real world, ready for plucking and Theresa wanted Father Tim. She had always gotten any man she wanted and if she had to fight, God for this one so be it.
Father Tim lost a secretary and so he hired Theresa telling her she could bring the baby as long as she got her work done. Now she had rooms in the rectory with him so when he woke dreaming at night the devil could whisper in his ear.
“Get up holy man and walk down the hall your dreams are that close.” It was even more difficult at breakfast time when sometimes he caught glimpses of her bare leg or slightly open robe with its warm honey flesh smelling of milk so close and yet so far.
