He lives in the attic above the choir loft. I have not told the board or any parishioner for fear they might demand the broken grate be fixed.
How did I discover this? Sometimes, when God is very far away, and I am unable to sleep, I get dressed and walk over to the church to pray.
On such an excursion, I saw him glide among the headstones, pluck a mouse, and fly into the darkness like the ascension of a soul. This morning, I was in the tool shed searching for the hedge clippers, but found the pick and shovel the sexton used before the cemetery became full. Turning to go, I glanced at the door, no wider than the mouth of a grave. the first rays were cresting the hill, and the owl sailed across the open frame. Sun back-lighting his tawny wings reminds me of Gabriel.Messengers of a higher spirit, we share this place called home.