Church below the rooftops: Living in the moment

From “Church below the rooftops” in the Sacred Heart North Albury Parish bulletin, Thirteenth Sunday, Year C, 27^th June 2010.

I had ridden my bike to Cooktown on my annual holiday and was returning via the Atherton Tablelands. I turned up at a presbytery in the hope of a bed for the night. The parish priest accepted me warmly as a fellow priest despite my unshaven, unwashed appearance. After showing me to my room he asked if I was in a hurry to move on, and if not, could I help him out with the weekend Masses as he was in need of a break. Knowing the feeling and the need, I readily agreed, and for the rest of the week I explored the beautiful Tablelands, returning to the presbytery each afternoon.

After settling into my room on the day I arrived, I went down to the church for the afternoon Mass, still in my unkempt state. It was not long before a “little old lady” came to sit beside me. She welcomed me to town, said I looked tired, and asked if I had a bed for the night and food. I assured her that was taken care of. She advised me of the St. Vincent de Paul store in case I needed clean clothes, and if I needed a food voucher. I thanked her and said all was fine.

Next morning, I went to Mass before heading off on my days exploration. My “LOL” sat with me again. This time she got down to business. She produced a picture card of Jesus and told me that Jesus loved me, died for me and was ready to forgive my sins. I listened attentively and said I would remember what she said. The next morning she pressed a rosary into my hand, whispering that if I kept it in my pocket our Blessed Mother would look after me.

Next morning I was waiting for her. She did not fail me! Was I doing anything that day? (I did have the day planned). Well, the St. Vincent de Paul store was short of helpers and so could I go and help sort some clothes and maybe find something nice for myself? So off I went to join the ladies and an elderly gentleman sorting shirts and coats and pants etc;. I also had a good morning tea!

The big test came with the weekend Masses. Father had driven off in a cloud of dust for a well deserved break and I was this time all dressed up in the finest linen for Mass. Of course, my little old lady turned up, and with one look at me practically fainted. She accosted me for not telling her I was a priest.

I could only say I had not the heart to spoil what was a most loving and welcoming experience for me, and that if I had not been a Catholic, I would have asked to join on the spot!

(Laurie)