Robust men wearing blazing blue polo shirts, bright red aprons, and the required health code baseball cap with the KNIGHTS insignia stitched on the front, prepared a colossal catfish meal for St. Martha’s family and friends tonight. In fact, they do this every Friday night during Lent.
During the meal I had the privilege of sitting with a gentleman who had been in my Catholics Returning Home course this last session. His wife had passed away nearly one year ago in April after 40+ years of marriage. He had come into the CRH course with the introduction that his wife had been praying for him to come to church with her all these years and now that she’s gone he realized he needed to make sure he could meet her in heaven. Who said God doesn’t answer prayers? This gentle soul and I were eating our meal and getting to know one another more when I asked him how many children he had. With a thoughtful glance he looked up to the ceiling as if to count them all, or maybe see them in his mind’s eye, and said, “I have five…well, I mean, I have four living one that has passed.” In the weeks he was in class I didn’t pick up on the fact he’d lost a child. “May I ask what happened?” He smiled and proceeded to tell me about his son, who was 28 years old and had a passion for motorcars. Consequently he died in a motorcar accident. Blazen and bold I had to ask, “May I ask how you were able to survive losing a child before you?”
With a shrug of his shoulders he smiled and said, “Well, he was going through a bad divorce at the time. I personally felt he was probably happier in heaven.” He laughed then and his smile grew. But then he added, “My wife was a different story. It took her a lot longer. She took his loss pretty hard.” He took another bite of catfish and then added, “But with time she learned to accept his place in heaven. It just takes time.” He got quiet and then said, “Kind of like me coming back here. I didn’t know how blessed I was till I decided to come here after my wife’s death. She kept telling me to come, that the church had changed, that she felt like it was her family. But I didn’t listen. I now know what she means.” He surveyed the crowded room where families mixed with other families, couples met up with other couples, little girls said, “nah, nah, ni boo boo,” to the boys and ran to be chased and there was laughter and love flowing like the wine of Cana. “This is my family,” he said. “I know what she means now, it just took time for me to get it.”
I fought back the urge to cry and scanned the blessed chaotic room one more time, my heart swelled with love.
We are blessed.
Shannon