I'm OK...you're OK.

As the days and week progressed since learning the news of parish reassignments, I've found myself cycling through the grief process, my emotions rushing in waves from anger and disbelief to worry and despair. I lost my father a little over a year ago, and the news of losing my faith father feels remarkably similar to first learning about my dad's diagnosis. I'm trying to approach this next chapter for my parish unselfishly, especially considering the transition ahead for our pastor. It's certainly not easy for anyone, but he's leaving a community with deep relationships, and I/we still have our parish community as companions on the journey ahead.

Obedient:

Okay, I know that's necessary, but I don't have to like it. Admittedly, I sometimes think I know better than whoever is in the driver's seat, even when it's God pushing the gas pedal. Over-functioning (AKA control freak) is a blessing and a curse. A personality trait (sometimes a flaw) that evolved through my birth order, family circumstances, and childhood 'stuff' that, although I've spent years unpacking, is still right there to greet me each day. I've mastered the awareness part, just not so much the 'don't be a control freak part.' I'm learning (still) to let go instead of white-knuckling my way through. In this case, I can only lean into my faith and rely on God. Be still and know…you know? Right, I'll work on that.

This change is BIG, and it's personal. It's not like the business is simply under new management, yet from a business perspective, I understand the need despite the upheaval and uncertainty associated with this change. The church is a business in many ways, and its sustainability is crucial. There's just this caveat I can't shake…growing disciples is primarily relational. The faithful (tapped and untapped disciples) need connections in their parish communities. I'm a social worker, so this parallel is especially poignant. Engagement is vital in building stronger church communities, developing vibrancy, and growing disciples; it's unavoidable if the goal is to strengthen the church body. Similarly, in social work, the best progress is made with families and individuals where engagement is focused and fostered.

To grow church communities by growing disciples, we must meet people where they are and greet them in their circumstances and needs. We must engage people and invite them in or bring them home, but we can't do that well by skipping out on the relational part. And the truth is, we're broken people. To bring someone to Mass or back to Mass and ultimately into the community means we must first 'see' them as they are and love that person as they are. I always say, "Jesus chose Peter," and he didn't roll up to the shoreline at the Sea of Galilea to point out to Peter and his brother, Andrew, everything they had wrong. He engaged them and built relationships. He showed them what it meant to belong and to be a part of something everlasting. He cast the net as an example for them and us to build His church, and He wasn't talking about brick and mortar. He showed them how to build a family and community grounded in relationships, fortified in relationships, and sustained through relationships.

Relationship Goals = Our innate desire to belong:

These parish changes feel personal because they impact our core relationships within the church family, and relationships are the heart of strong churches. Our relationship with Christ is the ultimate relationship goal, but most often, we're meeting Him in and through His people, the hands and feet. And I worry these changes will set us (me) back a bit. It seemed we were gaining momentum; things were falling into place. I'm worried because my faith has suffered throughout the various stages of my evolution, and life is hard; it just is. And sometimes, it's easier to allow the hardness of life to harden us. Nothing gained, nothing lost when you're armored and ready for battle. I was (am) in a good place, taking leadership roles and ownership of ministries and activities in our church. I finally felt I was 'good enough' (another topic altogether) to lead in my church, leveraging my professional skills and experiences to serve God and His people. Now this. So, I'm scared for myself, but I'm also very grateful our church is intact. I'm also mindful and trying to be prayerful about all the churches that won't remain intact. My heart aches for them because I know how vital relationships are and that these changes might keep some from church altogether. I pray that's not the case, but the reality is that these changes create church nomads, and that's not where anyone wants to be, wandering in search of a new home.

I had to get my feelings out there to process them fully, and it's important to recognize that this isn't easy for anyone. For me, in my compounded grief, anyway, I'm wrestling with a loss of connection and an intimacy that builds over time. My (our) pastor knows my story. He understands our struggles as a blended family, with the annulment process, and how we're hopeful despite our struggles. He performed our daughter's sacraments in the Easter Vigil this year, and he celebrated my father's funeral Mass, a wound that's still healing…so the news of losing our pastor compounds the grief I'm digging through and it feels too heavy to take on right now. I don't want it. I certainly don't need it, but here it is. Writing about it has helped. I try to champion vulnerability and authenticity not because it's so easy for me to do but because I've learned that we must break open the parts that scare us the most. When we're crushed, pruned, or otherwise pushed out of our comfort zone, there's an opportunity for new life, and as Catholics, we mustn't ignore this fact. Our salvation was born from the crushing of Christ, who came to save us. I'll cling to that, Grace, and do my best to push on.

Sending love and light to all.

Rachael