The Three Wise Guides Read Online Free PDF

for sure…” she began.
    “Then you
could judge him fairly,” Joseph finished.
    “Yes,” Mary
said.
    “But don’t
you remember, you weren’t supposed to judge him at all,” Joseph reminded her.
    Mary stepped
back as if she’d been struck. “Then why did you show me all this?” she demanded.
“Why?”
    Joseph
stepped forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Because, we wanted to
give you just a glimpse of what God sees in his children,” he replied tenderly.
    “I don’t
know if I can do this,” she admitted. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough or
wise enough.”
    “As long as
you’re willing,” Joseph said, “that’s all God requires.   Besides, you’ve always got your three wise
guides to call on for help.”

Chapter Nine
    Mary stood
in front of the Catholic Church as the wind whipped flakes of snow around her
in the still, dark night.   The school
Jose had attended was boarded up and had not held classes for a number of
years.   Gang logos scarred the doors and
outer walls of the buildings.   The empty
church next door was surprisingly unscarred, although the plywood that covered
its windows and doors had been torn down in places.   Stained glass windows had been stolen and,
Mary was sure, there wouldn’t be much left on the inside.
    Following
directions, she walked to the backside of the building and pulled down on the
ancient metal fire escape.   The rusted
joints creaked and, at first, resisted, but eventually Mary could pull the
ladder down low enough to climb up on it.   She bypassed the second floor and carefully climbed up the slippery
rungs to the steepled third floor.   As promised, the window was intact, but swung
open on well-oiled hinges.   She pushed
the window open and slid inside.
    Shining her
flashlight around slowly, she realized she was standing in the humble
residential quarters for many of the priests who had served the parish.   Walking down the narrow hall, she passed by
tiny rooms that only held a cot-like bed, a built in desk and a narrow
dresser.   Some of the rooms still held
personal mementos of their former residents like a plastic crucifix hung on a
wall, a strand of rosary beads and a picture frame of a family member. The
floors were covered remnants of shag carpeting, molding and damp.  
    Mary moved
past the cubicles to the large oak door at the end of the hall.    This door was more ornate than any of the
plain wooden doors she had just passed. It was arched on the top and held a
delicate stain glass rendition of Jesus kneeling in Gethsemane.   The priests’ private chapel.
    Reaching
down, Mary took hold of the doorknob, twisted and pushed.   The door gave way and opened to a small
sanctuary that still smelled of wax and incense.   Her flashlight guided her past the red velvet
covered pews and up to the marble transept and oak altar. She climbed up the
stairs and around the altar to the vestry in the far corner.
    “Are you
sure you can do this?” the voice behind her asked. “I don’t want her to get
hurt.”
    Rolling her
eyes, Mary looked over her shoulder and held her finger up to her lips.
    “They can’t
hear me,” Jose said. “I’m dead, remember.”
    Placing her
hand on the door, she slowly turned the knob and, once she heard the click,
knocked it open. “Police,” she yelled, pulling out her gun. “Freeze.”
    The dozen or
so young gang members started to scatter, trying to reach their weapons and fight
back. But Mary shot up into the air. “I said freeze,” she repeated.
    This time,
they did as she requested. “I’ve got a warrant for the arrest of Maria
Martinez, which one of you is Maria?”
    At first
there was no response.
    “Fine, I’ll
bring you all in,” she said.
    “That one,
over there, she’s Maria,” a young man said.
    “Philippe,
what are you doing?” Maria asked, shocked.
    “Hey, I ain’t going down for you,” he said. “You ain’t nothing but a bitch.”
    “But, you
said…you said you