Noel Chavez had been put on display across the nation, and she arrived at a church close to where Michael Spencer lived. Granted, it was a three hour drive, but, Michael thought, it'd be worth it to witness the miracle that was Lil' Noel. Her story went that she had been in a drowning accident as a baby and had been in a coma-like state since then. Around the same time, the statues of Jesus Christ and the crucifixes in her room secreted an oil, which was labeled as a sign by God. Several people with diseases and illnesses who visited her claimed to have been cured of their ailments shortly thereafter.
The story piqued his interest, and when he arrived at the church after a tiring drive, he discovered that his interest wasn't the only one piqued. He had to park in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant the next block over and walk to the church while the skies threatened with snow. He considered himself lucky he was able to fit inside the door of the church. A giant crucifix overlooked the sanctuary, where a church organ flanked his left and an ornate structure with golden chimes sat opposite for symmetry. The colorful stained glass windows of religious characters contrasted the dark wood architecture of the nave that was lit by the faint glow of the overhead chandeliers. This was certainly holy ground, but it was so loud and so crowded that Michael felt like he was attending a video game or comic book convention, and the line he waited in seemed to fit that bill.
He wasn't sure if there was any form of organization to the line or if there was a line. People stood on their toes and held up their cameras to snap photos, but nobody moved, and nobody exited. It was a short while before a few people slipped through the crowd, cameras and flyers in their hands and smiles and joy on their faces. If a few minutes with Lil' Noel could do that to a person, then the three hours in the car would have been worth the drive to Michael.
Standing in line was refreshing, since he had stopped only once to use the bathroom. At the same time, however, it was about as dull as the drive. He received some moments of entertainment when he could see the tops of two shelves angled at either side of where Lil' Noel lay. Arranged on the shelves were statues of Jesus Christ standing and bound to crucifixes. They were glossed rather beautifully before the giant crucifix and had paper cups strapped around the feet or neck of Jesus. Michael snapped pictures of the shelves to occupy the gap of time until he would reach Lil' Noel.
His heart pounded with excitement when he could see a corner of the girl's bed, and steadily the line carried him to where he could see her. When he did, his excitement drained. Lil' Noel's face was bloated, as if she had been pumped full of steroids or botox. Her eyelids were each partially closed at different levels, and her head rocked with the slightest movement, as if she were trying to look at all the people who came to see her; yet her pupils did not move within their sockets. She looked like a disabled girl plucked from the nearest hospital and exhibited here under the label MIRACLE GIRL.
To Lil' Noel's right, an elderly woman held her forefinger in the girl's hand the way an adult would give an infant their finger to grab. The woman had the same sentimental smile as someone holding an infant.
To Lil' Noel's left, a man in his thirties knelt before her. In his hand, he thumbed the beads of a rosary while pressing his forehead against the girl and reciting a prayer.
Michael looked around to see if anybody else had the same disturbed expression as him, but each face he saw was the same smile and joy as the people who had exited the church earlier. If they didn't point or smile at the girl, they were taking photos as her personal paparazzi. He inspected the girl again to see if there was some aspect of the viewing everyone found endearing that he didn't, but he saw the same thing as before.
Unwilling to remain around the girl any longer, he slipped his way through the crowd. Once he had passed the second shelf, he had some elbow room and space to walk.
“God bless, and have a great day,” said a man handing out flyers some feet away. “God bless, and have a great day,” he said to Michael as he handed him a flyer.
“Thank you,” Michael said, and accepted the sheets of paper stapled together. In the corner, held by the staple, was a tiny plastic bag containing a cotton ball. Its material was stained yellow, and when Michael read the front, he learned that it was a sample of the oil from the statues. The remainder of the front was dedicated to explaining Noel Chavez's life and what it had brought to the world. He flipped it over and skimmed through the following pages.
Videos - $20.
T-shirts - $15.
Mouse pads - $7.
Again, Michael looked around at the people with flyers in hand but found that none of them, not even the ones gazing at the commercial pages, seemed unsettled in the slightest. He started through the pages, seeking some sort of answer or hint that would explain to him why he was the lone person who saw this entire viewing as immoral.
“You look troubled.”
“I guess you could say that,” Michael said to the stranger suddenly beside him.
“Is it the viewing?”
Michael nodded. “I've read that Lil' Noel was brain damaged, but I didn't think of what that meant until I saw her here today. Now, it doesn't seem right.”
“That makes two of us,” the stranger said.
Michael pointed to the products and said, “Especially this.” He leaned in closer to the stranger. “What kind of parent makes a business out of their own child's misfortune?”
The stranger reeled Michael closer and said, “Between you and me, I'm 99% certain that this whole thing is a load of bullshit, anyway.”668Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBa9r8DcYN0
“What do you mean?”668Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdFRf9ccSje
“The Microbac Laboratories tested the oil and found it to be 80% vegetable oil and 20% chicken fat. I'm not sure how faithful you are, but to me, chicken fat and vegetable oil are not holy ingredients.”
“Wait, so you mean that Noel's mother applied the oil to the statues herself?”
“I'm not saying anything,” the stranger said. “I'm just stating the facts here. She's said in interviews that she didn't apply the oil herself, but my family's filled with members with a holier-than-thou attitude yet curse like sailors and lie left and right. In my honest opinion, this entire thing is cruel and unusual, and I can only hope that the Devil has a special seat reserved for her for when she kicks the bucket.”
Before Michael had attended the viewing, he wouldn't have taken the stranger's words too lightly. He would have stated that the stranger's faith wasn't strong enough to believe that the statues really were oozing oil in response to Lil' Noel's tragic accident. But after seeing the evidence for himself in person, he couldn't help but to agree. For the first time in his life, Michael questioned the good nature of God and doubted that He was all-loving and all-caring. Because what sort of all-loving and all-caring God would allow such a cruel practice to occur?
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