As they drove along the quiet
roads that led away from the town and toward the convent grounds, they talked about their daily responsibilities and the challenges of serving their community. The priest spoke of the weight of guiding people through grief and uncertainty, of the careful attention required when explaining the Scriptures to those who sought clarity, and of the quiet satisfaction that came when a parishioner found peace after long struggle. The nun shared the steady rhythm of her days, the patience needed when instructing children who struggled with their lessons, the joy of
seeing them grasp a new idea, and the continual effort of balancing prayer with the practical work that sustained the convent. Their conversation moved easily from one shared concern to another, the sound of the engine a steady background to their words.
The nun suddenly said, “Father, remember Psalm 129.”
The priest nodded and grew quiet, assuming she was pointing him toward a serious scriptural lesson. He kept his eyes on the road ahead while the words settled in his mind. Psalm 129. He turned the reference over carefully,
