It was her faithful friend reminding her to make the effort to see him. Sick as she was, she prepared herself. At the gate the lady who offered a ride to her was a devoted catholic and wanted to catch it or part of it. In the car, they joked, she thought to herself, she's very ill, I will pray for her. At the church she met her faithful friend, a true believer of catching the Holy Ghost. They all sat together and watched as the sick hedged up to be healed by a man especially brought in for the service. And what she saw she pondered, could this be all a pretense? Do people really catch the Holy spirit?
She was there really to observe it, to see if seeing it could make her better. Then it was their turn. She just followed suit and prayed for the woman, the one with cancer, much sicker then her and too, her faithful friend. This was a gamble of pure faith, some caught the Spirit, others didn't. Their belief was that of the hand, the touch to the head, a judgment of truth. It did not happen, She felt sad for her, the lady, the lady who went to church a prayed, three times a week or more, a respected catholic, a pillar of devotion. It did not happen.
What she remembers, is falling back collapsing into the arms of the two helpers who stood behind her. She fell so far that they laid her on the floor. when she woke, she saw it, the Holy Ghost , it was to her a shadow, a cloud that hovered just above her and left her side. Struck with an emotion, orgasmic, blinding that she's never felt since her birth. There she felt, drunk with an overpowering sense of enlightenment.
What could she say? What could she tell them, a non believer, a non Catholic. How could it be? The ride back home, with tears in her eyes, what words could she describe her grief, her sorrow at her corporeal experience. So she kissed them both on the cheek. " You'll be healed"