I Bet I Know How She Will Feel

Today I went to Sunday Mass at my new parish. I found I had to force myself to leave quickly, look straight ahead, make no eye contact, and just get away from the church as quickly as I could.

I did this because the 11:00 am Mass was being used to say goodbye to a woman in the parish who had been its ministries coordinator since its inception four years ago. She and her family are moving away and everyone was saying goodbye, after very kind words by Father, a lovely oil painting presented to her, and everyone signed their name to a quilt made especially for her.

I had to get away because I have just left my old parish and I miss it. I wanted to go up to this woman and say, "Listen, you're off to a new place . . . and no matter how much you want the move, as a church lady you are going to have some moments of misery. Things won't be in the same place as your old church. You won't know where to sit. And worse, you won't know anyone. You'll walk into church, but instead of having a number of people to greet, the best you can do is look for a seat. It won't be home. You will feel isolated, lonely, and invisible. You will want to help out with the Mass because you're used to doing that, but you can't."

"And people will stare. They recognize you as the newcomers, but when you go to meet their eyes, they will look away. Oh, maybe they will give you that quick, polite smile, buy otherwise you're a moment's attention to them."

"So expect a few nights with some tears. I'm sure it will get better, because we were both strangers in a strange land when we started at our 'old' church, but until then . . . it's pretty miserable."