A Little Meeting with Father Bob

Last Monday morning, I went to my church (St. Peter Claver), as I had made an appointment to speak with Father Bob. He was already made aware that I had been awarded a private meeting with the Archbishop of Hartford on Wednesday, and I wanted to share with Father what I had planned to speak about with Archbishop Blair. My goal of my meeting was to recruit and receive a blessing from the Archbishop to begin implementing the Unbottled Water Campaign in the parishes and with the youth groups across the archdiocese, in response to the MDC/Niagara Bottling debacle.  Of course, I wanted him to bless me, too, for my surgery that would take place one week later.

Father Bob was very receptive to the ideas and then we began to talk personally. He is the first priest that I have been able to talk to as a friend, rather than as an authority figure that I automatically shut down to. That makes me so happy. We discovered we read the same devotional each morning and reflected on that morning's reading. Then we began to discuss the parish itself, and how was he settling in, etc. He remarked how happy he was to be there, yet still missed the parishioners from his former church, too. Overall, he was adjusting nicely. I have seen Father Bob many times on Thursday evenings as I prepare for Mindfulness Meditation. I have met with him one other time, and I have seen him at Mass; a few times. Ouch. I felt a nerve tingle.

He stated how the attendance in the Catholic Church as a whole has declined due to scandals, etc. He said that even our attendance was down, yet he could be recognized at Stop & Shop and have a lovely conversation with a parishioner, but not see them at church that weekend. (He's talking about me, I know he's talking about me!!) Ouch, there's that nerve again.

Over the years, I lived at my church. I taught CCD, was a daily communicant, a Eucharistic Minister, Catholic Biblical College, a Lay Minister, and most importantly, becoming certified as a Pastoral Counselor. I did everything I could do in my church, constantly trying to fill an emptiness inside me. I wanted what all of the other parishioners had: I wanted peace and joy. I wanted Jesus' love. I just felt empty, not worthy...something. I felt I had to earn His love, just like I had to earn my dad's when I was young.

Our church underwent many changes at the same time I was feeling this way, plus I was very sick with cancer. I began trying out other parishes, churches, etc. I began a daily private practice of worship, that I still do. I was missing my church, yet I still couldn't fill that hole.

I decided to try just working on my relationship with God. I studied the Bible so hard and read the Gospels over and over, waiting for my heart to be broken wide open. I learned to just sit and be QUIET, to listen and to give God the opportunity to whisper to me. This was actually the beginnings of my meditation practice that I lead today. And slowly, very slowly, I started to feel peace. I started to hear God's voice in the Bible passages I was reading. I keep a journal, so that I can go back and look how present God had been during so many times of my life.

And finally, I got down on my knees and completely turned my will over to God. I turned over the cancer, the financial difficulties, the strains of relationships, everything. I couldn't handle things one more day, so I turned it over. Thy will, not mine, be done. And then the miracles started to happen.

People look at my life and ask, "How can you take this, how do you manage?". I don't, God does.
It's actually very simple; I talk to God every morning with gratitude for a new day. I let him know what's on my heart and I sit still and listen. And then I ask God to take control of my day, so that my will is actually His. It works beautifully for me.

What are the miracles? I still have cancer, that's true. But I am alive after 18 years and 11 of them being Stage 4. I am strong enough for another surgery on Wednesday.  I have prayed for Ken and his work for 10 years, God is getting ready to give Ken his miracle, too.

And then I talked with Father Bob.

So that nerve that tingled when Father was talking about open spaces in the pews; well that was a miracle. I admitted (confessed, really) that I had been really slacking. I guess that I thought all of the things I was doing on my own was enough. Father pointed out the most obvious thing: God wants us to worship Him. With other Catholics. Every week. Father is so right.

Shortly after our meeting concluded, I ran errands and began not to feel so well. By 8:00 p.m that night I had been admitted to Yale/Smilow Hospital for extreme pain in my belly. I was going to have to be kept in the hospital for several days. But what about the Archbishop?! I would have to postpone.

On Thursday morning in the hospital, my phone rang and it was Father Bob. His kind voice assured me everything would be alright. Before we hung up, I told him I would see him Saturday afternoon for Mass.

I walked into the church just as the service was starting and caught his eye expecting a nod or wave. Instead, he came over and offered a gentle hug. After service,he told me he would be praying for me and my surgery; and I believed him.

I finally have what I've always wanted, a church that I can call home, and a Priest that is a new friend
 and will help me deepen my relationship with Jesus.

I am at peace.

And that's a miracle, too.

Blessings,
Kim