Back in the 20th century, when the Mass was still in Latin, when the celebrant had his back to the congregation, and he appeared and disappeared mysteriously via the sacristy, I was a devoted little Catholic girl. It took a LOT of faith to be Catholic back then because you felt pretty much like an observer and not a participant. In any event, being young and callow, I made a rash decision that required help from the Church to fix. I reached out to the Church. . . and no one took my hand.  Wow, it was a very painful time for me. I was a lost sheep and no one was looking for me...

Over the years, I pushed that pain down deep inside, and became one of those “spiritual” people who found God in the universe and had NO need of sacraments and a loving church family. I thought it was working out well…

God thought otherwise. About 6 years ago my widowed, 80 plus years old mom was in the midst of her personal journey into dementia, dragging her family along. One of the few things remaining in her reality was her faith. On Sundays her neighbor, Anna, would take her to Mass. One day Anna quite firmly told Mom that she didn’t want to take her to church anymore. My mom was devastated. How would she get to church? she asked. “Have your daughter take you,” Anna replied.

Well! I was livid! Wasn’t that JUST like a Catholic! How CHRISTIAN of her! It validated all the anger I had built up for 40 some years. Poor Anna, instrument of the Lord! I cursed her to high heaven.

But I was a dutiful daughter. Begrudgingly, I told Mom I would take her to the Shrine, because I was “spiritual”, you know, and I didn’t want a church roof over my head. We went to the Shrine, but it was too hard for Mom to climb that hill to the outdoor chapel. I settled on St. Christine’s as the alternative for no other reason than it was close and had no stairs.

Now I said I was a dutiful daughter, but I was NOT a loving daughter. I was filled with anger at losing my mom to dementia. I HATED that she lost her hearing aids while hiding them from the 'Hearing Aid Thief'. I HATED that she wouldn’t bathe and smelled bad. I HATED that I couldn’t tell her anything that she would remember two minutes from now. I would sit there in church and rage inside.  So into this rage walks the instrument of my peace – Father Joe Goebel, wise, kind, humble, the gentlest of souls. How peculiar was it that he wrote each of his homilies just for me? He gave me minutes of peace and freedom from anger every Sunday. 

Eventually Mom went into a nursing home, and I was now DONE with church. Finis, over, done, did my DUTY!

Well, it’s a funny thing once you allow God into your heart and head. I missed that peace, I missed Fr. Joe. I missed that peace he gave me. He had settled in at Ss. Robert and William upon the closing of St. Christine. And, let’s be truthful – I missed that Mass, I missed the Gloria, “Glory to God in the highest and peace to His people on earth”. I missed the absolute silence and holiness of the Consecration. So I started going to church to hear Fr. Joe again, to experience the Mass again. And the pastor, Fr. John...he wasn’t bad either!

Slowly, the Lord sucked me in. One hour on Sunday wasn’t enough. I wanted this peace more and more. I reconciled and received the Eucharist, I was able to love my mom as she deserved, and separate what I felt about the disease from what I felt about HER. I encountered God’s love and peace in my Bible study group, in the beautiful ladies of Women’s Fellowship who share their faith journeys and experiences, and prayers. I found it at our Adult Ed Awakening Faith sessions, and in Holy Hours, in Stations of the Cross, in our priests and deacons, in the warm embrace, encouragement, and tutelage of fellow parishioners. I thank you, Lord, for these blessings!

Father Scott recently referred to how happy the Lord must be to recover one of his lost and mangy sheep.  As that lost and mangy sheep, who was out in the cold and dark, there is NO peace like the peace of the Lord holding you close in His embrace, His wondrous embrace,  and saying , “Where the heck WERE you? I missed you. I love you.”