With Jesus in her Heart

“Our Father,” Annette began, “who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.”

She knelt at the foot of her bed as the precocious sunlight shone upon her through the window, silently reciting the prayer. “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

Her bright, cheery features were illuminated in the light. She had a long nose, blonde hair, and was slightly overweight. She continued the prayer. “Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” She opened her eyes. “Amen.”

Annette stood up on her feet. She knew that the Lord would be with her this morning, as He was every morning. Now, it was time for her to show her gratitude by being present at the morning Mass. She grabbed her crucifix that lay on the desk next to her bed and walked out the door.

She walked down the stairs and into the dining room. Her parents sat at the table. “Good morning, Annette,” her mother said. Her father simply nodded, turning the page in the newspaper.

“Good morning, mother and father.” She took a seat across her parents.

“Would you like some breakfast, dear?” her mother asked.

“Not yet,” she replied, putting her hands together. “We haven’t said the morning prayer yet.”

Her mother sighed, then smiled. “Alright, you caught us. Come on, Phil.” She tugged on her husband’s shirt, who irritably put the newspaper down and placed his hands together in prayer stance, like his wife and daughter. “Let’s begin,” her mother said.

Annette grinned, and closed her eyes. “O my God, I offer You all my prayers, works, and sufferings, in union with the Sacred Heart of Jesus, for the intentions for which He pleads and offers Himself in the Holy Sacrifice of the mass…” It was a very long prayer, and even after reciting it dozens of times, Mr. Lockhart couldn’t remember many of the words and mumbled so that nobody would suspect, and Mrs. Lockhart was getting lost as well, pausing and taking off after her daughter. Annette was the only one who had the prayer fully memorized.

They continued. “…In thanksgiving for Your favors, in reparation for my offenses, and in humble supplication for my temporal and eternal welfare, for the conversion of sinners, and for the relief of the poor souls in purgatory.”

Annette went on, her parents following clumsily. “I wish to gain all the indulgences attached to the prayers I shall say and to the good works I shall perform this day. Amen.” Annette quickly opened her eyes and lowered her arms. He parents did the same thing. “I know I must thank the Lord for this great morning feast, but I must also thank you both. Father, for working hard every day to pay for these meals, I thank you.”

Her father nodded his head. “No problem, Annie.”

“And Mother, for preparing this breakfast each morning, I thank you.”

Mrs. Lockhart smiled. “I’m glad you’re that grateful.”

“Of course,” she said, reaching for a bagel. “You are my parents, you have done everything for me.” She grabbed a bagel, pulling it close to her mouth for a bite. “We’ll have to eat quickly if we want to make it to the morning Mass.”

Her parents exchanged a look. Mr. Lockhart cleared his throat. “Dear, we weren’t really planning on going to church this morning.”

Annette looked as though he had just slapped her in the face. She lowered the bagel, and slowly turned her head to face her father. “What?”

“Annie, it’s Saturday. I don’t think we really need to go to church every single day. We’ve already gone every day this week. When I’m at work, your poor mother needs to drive you there by herself.”

“Phil,” Mrs. Lockhart said, grabbing his shoulder. She turned to Annette, who still looked in shock. “Sweetie, it’s too much of a stress on us to go to Mass every day. We’ve been thinking that maybe we should stick to only going on Sunday.”

“No,” Annette said firmly. “No. I’m not going to let my parents and I slip out of the loving embrace of the Lord and into fallacy of the Devil.”

“Annie, missing one morning of church is not a great sin. The Lord is forgiving.”

“But He is also very wrathful,” she exclaimed. “Would you risk eternal damnation by turning your back on our Lord and Savior, even just once?”

“Anne,” Mr. Lockhart said, “you’re overreacting. It’s just one morning of church. We can go for the evening Mass.”

Annette seemed to calm down. She lowered her head, staring at her hands, as if deciding. Then, she slowly looked back up. “Okay. But just to show the Lord that I haven’t forsaken Him, I’ll go to the morning Mass anyways.”

“How will you get there?” her mother asked.

“I’ll drive.”

“Honey, I need the car to get groceries.”

“Okay, then I’ll walk.”

Mrs. Lockhart sighed. “I’ll go with you to church, and afterwards we can pick up groceries.”

“That would be wonderful,” Annette said with a smile. “I’m going to go get ready.” She placed her nearly untouched bagel onto the table and walked off.

As she left the room, Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart both gave each other a look. “You know,” Mr. Lockhart said, “she is taking her faith too seriously.”

“We’ve been through this before,” Mrs. Lockhart said, sipping from her coffee cup. “I know she’s very devoted to the Lord, more so then us. But this is better than having no faith at all, dear.”

“Is it?” Mr. Lockhart said as he raised the newspaper. “Is it?”

THAT EVENING…

After the evening Mass, Annette and her parents moved down from the steps of the church. “I’m glad we went,” Anne said. Mrs. Lockhart was smiling softly and Mr. Lockhart was yawning.

As they were moving down the steps, Annette stopped. Her parents looked up at her. “Annie?” her mother asked.

“I just wanted to stay to talk to Reverend Harley a little.”

Mr. Lockhart groaned. Mrs. Lockhart sighed. “Dear, what for?”

“I just want to ask him some things.”

Mrs. Lockhart looked at her husband, who was visibly agitated. “How long will it take?” he asked.

“Just a minute.”

“Alright,” Mrs. Lockhart said. “Hurry up.”

Annette smiled, then turned around and hurried back up the steps into the church. Most of the people were leaving, but there were a few who had stayed behind. She saw Reverend Harley speaking to an elderly woman.

Once the Reverend was finished with the woman, he turned to Annette. “Anna! Good evening, my darling.”

“Good evening, Reverend Harley.” She grinned. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course.”

She coughed. “In private?”

The Reverend frowned. “Not now, I’m afraid. There’s a lot I have to do. You could talk to Pastor Goodwell, if you’d like.”

“No,” she sighed. “I’d rather speak with you, Reverend.”

Reverend Harley smiled lightly. “Alright, then. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Annette sighed again. “This morning, my parents were considering not going to church.” She said it as though she had committed a crime.

Reverend Harley frowned. “Is that all?”

“Is that all?” Annette shot back, then suddenly clasped her mouth in shame. She lowered her head. “I am sorry for speaking to you in such a tone, Reverend. Please forgive me.”

“It’s alright, Anna, it’s alright.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Dear, God is forgiving. And He is grateful for what we give him. There are people who only go to church once a week, yet still retain the Lord’s devotion. There are people who never go to church, and even they are loved in God’s heart. It’s not a big deal to miss one day of church. The Lord will understand.” He smiled. “You should know that better than anyone, my dear.”

Annette still had her head lowered. She sheepishly fished into her pocket and produced her crucifix. She played with it in her hands, running her fingers through the chain and grasping it the way a mother holds her child. “I guess, Reverend.”

“Then what’s to worry?”

She looked up. “I don’t want to be like everyone else. I don’t want to give God the bare minimum I need. I want to be the best Christian I can be, Reverend!”

Reverend Harley grinned widely. “That’s admirable. I wish more people were like you.”

Annette stood there, not sure to frown or smile. She still fiddled with the crucifix in her hands. “I’m afraid that my parents don’t want the same.”

“Of course they do. But they know that if you miss a day or two of Mass, Christ won’t hold it against you. He doesn’t hold grudges, my dear Anna.”

“I… know.” She smiled weakly. “Thank you, that’s all I needed to hear.”

“You are very welcome, Anna.” He lifted his hand from her shoulder.

Annette smiled as she turned to walk away, still facing the Reverend. “Christ be with you!”

“Christ be with you,” the Reverend replied as he watched the girl run off to her family.

THE NEXT MORNING…

Annette sat in her bedroom, reading the Book of Proverbs in her Bible. It was early Sunday morning, and she had decided to start the day (after praying) by reading through the Scriptures, right where she had left off the night before.

Reverend Harley’s words last night had comforted her, reminding her that God would love her even if she wasn’t able to be at Mass. She did, however, enjoy the belief that she was the Lord’s star pupil. She smiled as she thought of it.

She looked up at the clock. Almost time to leave. She set her bookmark in place and closed the book, placing it onto the desk. She was at the door and about to leave, when she remembered something. Giggling, she walked back to the desk and grabbed her crucifix, shoving it into the pocket of her nightgown. She couldn’t make it through a day without Jesus at her side.

Fixing up her hair sloppily, she moved down the steps into the hall. “Mom?” she asked. “Dad?” As she finished the slope of steps, she looked around. No answer had come yet.

She gulped. “Mom? Dad? I’m awake!” She walked into the kitchen. Nothing looked out of order, but there was a note on the table. She rushed over and picked it up.

Annie,

Your father hurt himself this morning while working on the new floor. I’m taking him to the hospital.

Stay at home, and if you need anything, you can call me on my cell.

Love, Mom

Dad had gotten hurt? she thought frantically. Immediately she felt worried for her father, and calmed down, knowing that it couldn’t have been that bad. But then an even more gripping thought entered her mind.

They had taken the car.

The car was gone.

She was suddenly overwhelmed with anxiety. How was she supposed to get to the Mass in time? The church was four miles away, and Mass was in half an hour. What would she do?

Panicking, she remembered what Reverend Harley had told her the night before. It was alright to miss a day or two of Mass. But this was different! It was the Sunday Mass! She had never missed a Sunday Mass in her entire teenage life!

Annette paced around the room frantically. She needed to get to church, to prove to Christ that she was His most devoted follower. Mother and Father had a legitimate reason not to be present at Mass, they were having a medical emergency. But her? She had no reason not to be there. She was fine, she had two healthy, working legs—.

It hit her then. She would have to make it by foot. But she would have to run.

Without thinking a second thought, she ran from the kitchen into the hall, and burst through the front door, still in her nightgown. She didn’t care, all she cared about was getting to the morning Mass in time.

She turned and dashed barefooted down the street, in the direction of the church. She only had half an hour to get there. Her arms pumped, and thighs burned, but she continued to run. Twenty-eight minutes.

Annette wasn’t the fittest woman of her age, and was tiring out by the first mile. She was sweating, her breath thrashing, but she was driven by her faith in Christ. She knew the Lord would help her get there. She continued to run, despite the flaring pain in her legs.

Halfway there, she stumbled and fell. She shrieked, cutting open her knee on the pavement. Blood dribbled down her leg. She got up, and tried to run again, but the pain was too intense. She was reduced to a limp. Tears dripped from her eyes and onto her reddened cheeks as she looked down at her watch. Seventeen minutes. She knew she couldn’t make it this way.

She began crying for help. She was shouting for help, to anyone who could hear her. She had to get to church in time. Missing Mass would be unacceptable.

An elderly man in a car passing by slowed to a halt, shocked by the young woman screaming, wearing a bloodied nightgown. He rolled down the window to speak to her. “Are you alright?”

She dashed to the car. “Please, sir, take me to St. Jude’s Church. I need to get there in time!”

“You’re bleeding! Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

“No! There’s no time! Just take me to church!”

The man glanced over at the backseat of his car, then turned back to her. “I can’t let you bleed all over the inside of my car. Let me tie a bandage on that cut.”

“No! There isn’t time for that!” Her heart was pounding, she didn’t care that she was screaming, she didn’t even know if she was being rational or not, she didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to church.

“I’m not letting you in without a bandage.” The man stepped out of his car, pulling off his overshirt. “I’m going to tie a bandage for you.”

She screeched in frustration as the man knelt down and tied his shirt around her wound. Suddenly, she remembered. She pulled the crucifix from her pocket. She held it in her hands, muttering a prayer to herself. “Dear Lord, o Holy Savior Jesus Christ, please forgive me for what I have done.”

The man looked up at her, wondering what it was that she had done. “I may have faltered today, but have faith in me, Almighty God. I am trying my hardest, and I will be at church to redeem myself soon.” She shifted the crucifix back and forth in her hands, as it became red and sticky with her blood.

“What did you do?” the man asked.

She glared down at him. “Are you going to tie that bandage or am I going to have to limp the rest of the way?”

Frightened, he tightened the bandage. “Okay, you can get into my car. Get in the backseat.” He opened the door for her. She crawled in. “There’s a blanket in there. Try to bleed on it, and not on the seat.”

“Just take me there!”

Half-shocked by the girl’s rage, half-insulted by her manner of speaking to him, the man slowly got back into his car and drove down the road. “Where are we going again?”

“St. Jude’s Church! St. Jude’s Catholic Church on Johnson Street!”

“I’m going,” he shouted back. “Just calm down.” He pondered over if he should call the police for this bleeding, delirious woman. The car continued smoothly down the road. Only a mile and a half away.

“Hurry up!” Annette screamed.

“I’m going as fast as I can without breaking the speed limit!”

“Jesus doesn’t care about a freaking speed limit! He cares about me being there on time! So hurry up!”

Agitated, the old man shifted the gear. He was now speeding down the streets. Soon, they left the suburbs behind for town. Shops and businesses lined the road. Annette was breathing heavily, playing with the crucifix in her hands. A mile left. Then half.

Finally, the car screeched to a stop at the steps of St. Jude’s Church. Nearby civilians seemed surprised, and even more so when the bloody teenage girl burst from the car and began running up the steps, the old man climbing out of the car and chasing after her.

Annette sighed in relief. She was there, and in time for Mass. She could see Reverend Harley up at the doors, shaking the hand of a man. He turned to Annette, and his expression changed to one of horror. “Reverend Harley!” she said. “I came here just in time for Mass!”

All eyes were fixed upon her. Shocked churchgoers held their hands to their mouths, shielding their children from the sight. The old man caught up to her, standing behind her, staring, breathing heavily. Reverend Harley looked down at her in shock.

Her white nightgown was torn and spattered with blood. Blood had dripped down her leg, and a green shirt was tied around her wounded knee. Her hands were covered in blood, one holding a reddened crucifix. Her hair was matted and eyes weary. She was breathing shallowly. “Reverend?”

“Anna…” The Reverend was almost too shocked to speak. “What happened to you?”

“My parents took the car, so I had to run here to get to Mass in time. I wasn’t going to miss Sunday Mass.”

“But how…”

“I tripped and fell, and I cut open my knee. I might have bled a little,” she said, unaware that most of her body was dashed in red.

“…And this man?”

“Him?” She looked back at the old man who had driven her, who still held his mouth open in shock. “He was kind enough to drive me here. He even bandaged my knee.”

Reverend Harley shook his head. The old man yelled, “Why did you need to get here on time? What was all the screaming about?”

She turned to him, smiling weakly. “I had to get to church on time. I’ve never missed Sunday Mass before. It wouldn’t have been acceptable. God wouldn’t have forgiven me.” Her words were becoming slow and slurred.

“Anna!” Reverend Harley shouted. “You did all of this to yourself trying to get to church in time?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly, her eyelids fluttering. “Aren’t you proud? Isn’t Jesus happy..?” Her eyes fell shut, and she fell forward. Reverend Harley tried to catch her, as her blood-stained hands wiped against his robe. The crucifix dropped from her hand and fell to the ground. The last thing she saw was the Reverend looking down at her, then everything went black.

THAT AFTERNOON…

“Is she going to be alright?”

“She’ll be fine. All she did was scratch up her knee. She might need a blood transplant for the blood lost, but aside from that, she’ll be alright.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“I think God is the reason all of this happened.”

Annette’s eyes shot open. “What?” She turned to the source of the sound. “What did you say?”

Mr. Lockhart blinked. “Annie… I didn’t think you were awake.”

“Never speak of the Lord like that ever again!” she screamed, pounding her fists. The IV line bounced back and forth.

Mr. Lockhart covered his face and walked away. Mrs. Lockhart spoke, trying to turn attention away from the girl’s father. “Annie, dear?”

Annette turned sharply, anger present in her face. “What?”

“You got hurt. I thought I told you to stay home.”

“You took the freaking car. I was going to miss the Sunday Mass.”

“That’s nothing to get this hurt over!”

“Mother!” Annette was screaming again. “You aren’t taking the Mass seriously!”

“Annette Lockhart!” Mr. Lockhart yelled. The room fell silent. “Throughout this entire campaign of yours, we’ve been helpful. We’ve been understanding. We took you to church every day, let you stay for religious education classes, help out in community service. We’ve allowed you to become the most devoted Christian in the world.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Anne shouted.

“God doesn’t want the most devoted Christian, He wants the wisest Christian!”

“Dear,” Mrs. Lockhart said calmly. Mr. Lockhart didn’t listen, and Mrs. Lockhart didn’t much care. She was on his side, however worried of hurting their daughter.

Anne was in shock. “What do you mean ‘He doesn’t want the most devoted Christian?’”

“He doesn’t care if you’re devoted to him. He doesn’t care if you’ve read the Scriptures a hundred times, He doesn’t care if you’re at church every morning, He doesn’t care that you get down on your knees and pray to Him every hour.” Mr. Lockhart was sweating. “All He cares is that you live out the lessons He’s taught us, and to take his Word to heart.”

“He’s right,” said Reverend Harley as he walked through the door. “You’re becoming obsessed with your faith. It’s becoming unhealthy.”

Anne shook her head. “No… No. You’re all wrong.”

“Annie,” Mrs. Lockhart said slowly, “please, listen to the Reverend. He’s a man of God.”

“No he isn’t!” Anne spat. “He’s a tempter, sent by Satan! You’ve been shaken by his mistruths!”

“Anne, listen to yourself!”

“You’ve become fanatical!” Mr. Lockhart said.

“No!” Anne screamed. “I’ll never believe it!” She sat up in her bed, trying to step down from it.

“Miss Lockhart,” the doctor said anxiously, “you need to stay in bed!”

“Never!” Anne stood up, ignoring the sharp pain in her knee. She grasped the IV line.

“Annette!” Mr. Lockhart pleaded. “Just get back in bed! We want to help you!”

Anne wasn’t listening, blinded by her rage. They were all liars, they were sent by the Devil to turn her away from the Lord. That would never happen. Growling, she ripped the IV line from her arm. Fluid sprayed onto her and onto the floor.

“Anne, please!” Mrs. Lockhart was on the verge of tears. “This isn’t what Jesus wants!”

Frantically, Annette rushed over to the handbag at the side of the room. She dug through it. It had her nightgown, the bloodied shirt used as a bandage…

She pulled the crucifix from the bag. Blood had dried on parts of it. She held it in her hand close to her heart. It was all she needed.

Mr. Lockhart stepped towards her. “Annette! That’s enough!”

Infuriated, Anne took one step towards her father, then sent her wounded leg flying in between his legs. Mr. Lockhart groaned and fell to the floor. Mrs. Lockhart was crying, the doctor and the Reverend too shocked to do anything.

She knelt down and shoved her hand into her father’s pocket. He coughed, facing her. “What the hell are you doing?” Anne said nothing, and pulled a set of keys from the pockets. She stood up and dashed towards the door. Mr. Lockhart gasped, “She took the keys to the car!”

Ignoring the aching in her leg, she ran down the corridor of the clinic. Finally, she burst through the front doors, into the afternoon air. She ran down the steps and into the parking lot, towards her parents’ car. She could hear the Reverend right behind her, crying out to her, and her mother, sobbing.

She opened the car door and jumped in. She turned the ignition, and shifted into gear. She pulled out of the lot just as her parents and Reverend Harley had gotten outside. She sped away, away from the clinic.

As she distanced herself from the clinic, her heart slowed in pace, and she calmed herself down. She suddenly noticed the stinging pain in her knee and winced. But it was alright. She had left them behind.

She smiled, feeling victorious. The Lord was with her, and she would be with him now and forever. She felt the crucifix in her hand.

Suddenly, her smile dissipated into a frown. As she drove forward aimlessly, she began to think. Slowly, her eyes widened and her lip began to tremble. “What have I done,” she muttered to herself.

Tears began dripping from her eyes as she reached into her mother’s purse, which sat on the passenger seat. She retrieved her cellphone. She knew her father would have his on him. Returning her eyes to the road, she opened the cellphone and pushed the autodial for her father’s number. It rang.

Then it pick up. “Anne? Is that you?”

She broke into tears. “Daddy, I’m so sorry. I’ve brought shame upon us all, I’ve defiled the sacred bond between me and you and Mom, and I’ve disappointed God. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Anne! Oh, God, Anne, you’re alright.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Where are you?”

“In town. I’m coming back.” She turned the car around and headed back for the clinic. “Let me talk to Mom.”

“Hold on,” her father said. There was a brief silence, then, “Anne?”

“Mom!”

“Oh my God, Anne! You had us so scared!”

“I’m sorry, Mom! Please forgive me!”

“It’s okay, just come back. We want you here.”

“I’m coming, I’ll be back in a minute.”

There was some muttering on the phone. “Dear, Reverend Harley wants to speak to you.”

“Put him on.”

A brief pause. “Anne?”

Anne choked. “I’m sorry for how I acted, Reverend. I don’t know what came over me.” She played with the crucifix in her hand.

“Anne, you’re alright. You just became a little overpassionate about Christ.” He gulped. “Listen to me.”

“Uh-huh.” She continued to play with the crucifix.

“What your father said was true. You need to be an honest Christian, not a fanatical one. God doesn’t care if you make it to church each morning, He doesn’t care if you memorize every prayer in a book. All He wants is acknowledgement from you that He is present, and that He loves you, and that you love Him back. That’s all he wants.”

Anne sobbed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see that before.”

“Good. Now, please, come back to the clinic. We all want to—.”

Anne listened to Reverend Harley speak over the phone, but the last of his words became whispers as she returned her focus to the road. She had ran a red light, and she was headed right for another car. There was no time. She screamed, dropped the phone, and held onto her crucifix tight.

The impact was incredible. She flew forward, then was jerked back by her seatbelt. Then, the airbag deployed. It came out with such force that it carried the crucifix in Anne’s hand and drove it into her chest, through flesh and bone, into her heart.

She choked, coughing up at blood. She slowly looked down at her hands, now bloody, and the crucifix, the long end thrust into her chest. She didn’t have the strength to speak, or move, or do anything. She looked up slowly, and she saw a light. It was a bright, golden light. She knew she saw someone at the other side… Her mother, father, the Reverend, and…

Anne slumped forward, blood dripping from her lips, and died.

THREE DAYS LATER…

“Family, friends, today we are gathered under the most heartbreaking of circumstances.”

Reverend Harley spoke loud and clear so everyone at the funeral could hear. Family members dressed in black sat in the lines of chairs, some with a somber frown, some weeping silently. The grass shimmered softly in the autumn breeze, down the path to the open casket.

Anne lay inside, her eyes closed, a serene look on her face. Her blonde hair was in curls, she was wearing a peach colored dress. Her hands were crossed, grasping ahold the same crucifix that she had carried her whole life, that she had cherished her whole life, and that had ended her life.

“Annette Shawnee Lockhart was a devout follower of the Lord Jesus Christ, whose life ended much sooner than any of us would have hoped. We should feel comfort in that she is now within the loving arms of the Lord.”

Mrs. Lockhart suddenly began crying, bringing the already tearstained handcloth to her face. Mr. Lockhart tried to comfort her. “It’s okay, Lucia. We’ll make it through this.”

She continued to sob. “Just a few days ago, we were having breakfast with her.”

“Try not to think of it like that. She’s with God now.”

The Reverend continued. “People, faithful followers of Christ, or any other religion, we are united today at the loss of a woman, a daughter, a friend.” The Reverend paused briefly, thinking of the girl he really had believed to be God’s star pupil. Then, he continued. “We are all sad that she is no longer with us, but we should also be happy, for she is with the Lord whom she prayed to every morning of her life. She is with him now, in heaven.”

He choked. “May we all find solace in that we know she died with Jesus in her heart.”

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

This story is largely fictitious, but it is based off of an actual urban legend. Some say a pious woman died in a car accident when the figure of Jesus she held so close was thrust into her heart. If you were to take anything from this story, take Mr. Lockhart’s speech to heart. God doesn’t want a devoted follower, he wants a wise one.