Fr. Augie, childhood priest and now interim rector
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The cadence and voice resonate with a visceral familiarity. The note given before the chanting of the Eucharistic prayer is lower than in past years, but yet the pitch is true.
Memories begin to percolate. No, not really memories but sensations coming from the deep inner part of the brain and heart. Folding chairs with kneelers attached to the back. Heat coming in the glass windows, mother's eyes watching us as she plays the organ, cold linoleum floors....
Sunday drives. My sister and I in the back seat. Let's go see the satellite boats. Let's walk out on the jetties. The same conversations, the same unspoken words.
His voice has not changed, the inflections hit the correct rhythm, the words roll over as predictably as the tide at the beach. Even the humor is still there. After so many years how can it suddenly be as it was?
"Sit up straight. You may read your book, but not during the Gospel and you must respect that others around you are serious about being here."
Who said that? Closing my eyes I hear my mother's voice, but when they are open she is not there and the firstborn child of my heart is rolling her eyes at me....me?
When did this happen? How could the roads have been in a circle? The move to a new state, a new school. College, medical school, boys I loved, one I didn't marry and the one I did. Infertility, depression, professional success. The phone call, "Are you still looking for a baby". Watching my husband fall in love with another woman, but just a woman to be who is only 3 weeks old. Joy. Another phone call, another baby. This time a boy. His color matters not. Nothing cures prejudice like holding your grandson. Quotidian grace, health scares, financial security. And then, Katrina.
Nothing is the same.
"Sit. Up. Straight."
"Mom, leave me alone."
Who said that? If I close my eyes it is me. When I open them it is my daughter.
"The gifts of God for the people of God, Take them in remembrance that Christ died for you and be thankful."
He said the whole thing....he said it with the voice of my childhood. It is comfortable and safe.
Sunday drives. The same conversations. Spoken words of love.
Everything is the same.
Memories begin to percolate. No, not really memories but sensations coming from the deep inner part of the brain and heart. Folding chairs with kneelers attached to the back. Heat coming in the glass windows, mother's eyes watching us as she plays the organ, cold linoleum floors....
Sunday drives. My sister and I in the back seat. Let's go see the satellite boats. Let's walk out on the jetties. The same conversations, the same unspoken words.
His voice has not changed, the inflections hit the correct rhythm, the words roll over as predictably as the tide at the beach. Even the humor is still there. After so many years how can it suddenly be as it was?
"Sit up straight. You may read your book, but not during the Gospel and you must respect that others around you are serious about being here."
Who said that? Closing my eyes I hear my mother's voice, but when they are open she is not there and the firstborn child of my heart is rolling her eyes at me....me?
When did this happen? How could the roads have been in a circle? The move to a new state, a new school. College, medical school, boys I loved, one I didn't marry and the one I did. Infertility, depression, professional success. The phone call, "Are you still looking for a baby". Watching my husband fall in love with another woman, but just a woman to be who is only 3 weeks old. Joy. Another phone call, another baby. This time a boy. His color matters not. Nothing cures prejudice like holding your grandson. Quotidian grace, health scares, financial security. And then, Katrina.
Nothing is the same.
"Sit. Up. Straight."
"Mom, leave me alone."
Who said that? If I close my eyes it is me. When I open them it is my daughter.
"The gifts of God for the people of God, Take them in remembrance that Christ died for you and be thankful."
He said the whole thing....he said it with the voice of my childhood. It is comfortable and safe.
Sunday drives. The same conversations. Spoken words of love.
Everything is the same.
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