They laughed

I had a work meeting that I got to before the time.

To kill time, I ducked into a nearby church hoping something would happen.

I spent a few minutes sitting on a bench, observing the baroque structure of the enclosure;

then I turned my eyes towards the main altar where, surrounded by Solomonic columns, was the tabernacle and, inside the tabernacle, I supposed, God himself.

But I couldn't feel anything.

At this, the mobile vibrated inside my pocket, from where I took it out to read a message that said: “EARTHQUAKE EMERGENCY IN AFGHANISTAN: thousands of children need your urgent help.

Donate now.

Send UNICEF to 38028 (€6)”.

If I provided this type of help every time they ask me for it, I would live in ruins, because all the NGOs have me on file.

So I usually carry the guilt of not doing anything, which, incomprehensibly, doesn't really last long either.

On this occasion, given that I was in a space that favored recollection and that I had managed to forget about the work difficulties that I would have to face in just a few minutes, I donated the six euros and continued waiting for my good action was rewarded by some kind of revelation that did not happen.

Leaving the temple with the same sense of dullness with which I had entered it, my ankle gave way and I fell with a crash in the middle of the sidewalk.

For a few split seconds, I compared my situation to that of Saint Paul when, on the road to Damascus, he was knocked off his horse by lightning, while listening to the words of God: “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? ”.

I didn't hear anything, so far from being converted, I got up in a hurry because falling down in the street at my age is very embarrassing, and I kept walking.

I told the event in the work meeting and they laughed.

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