Miracle Shmiracle

OK. This was the scene. Kathy and her sister and I went to church for 4pm Mass on Christmas Eve. The decorations were beautiful; the place was packed with people, SRO, in fact. I was chatting with friends before I had to go back to the sacristy to get ready for the procession into church. I was doing the scripture readings, as I have for at least the last ten years, and I felt comfortable with my preparation.

One of the ushers came to get me, saying that there was a woman outside who needed help. He knew I worked in the Social Justice group and that we help parish families with food throughout the year. At Christmas, the people of the parish donate great mountains of presents for the children, and they had come through again for us this year. Everything had been delivered the Sunday before Christmas.

In the vestibule of the church a nervous woman in her thirties told me her name was Jennifer and I asked her what was going on. She explained that her husband, a construction worker, had been laid off three days ago and his last check had not yet arrived. She was worried about her three children and how they would not have a Christmas this year. I dug a scrap of paper out of my suit pocket and wrote down her name, address and phone number and said I would see what I could do. She started to cry and she thanked me and then she left.

She left the building. I thought she was staying for the service, but she just left. Then it dawned on me that she did not belong to our parish. She mentioned that she lived a few blocks away, just off West 54th. I realized after she left that that would put her outside our parish boundaries.

A couple of years ago our group reviewed the list of people we had been helping and saw that many of them no longer lived in our parish, or had never lived in our parish, and certainly did not go to church, any church. We asked each family to register with our parish. Those who did not would be dropped from our list. As a result, we no longer serve about half of those families.

So, this realization kind of cooled my jets. Then I thought about what I could do for her on such short notice and put a little plan together. Then I wondered how I would explain to Kathy that somehow we had to help this family, even as we were hosting fifteen people at our house in a matter of hours. All during Mass I thought about it. I did still have a good time with the scripture readings because they are a couple of my favorites from Isaiah 9 (“For every boot that tramped in battle and every cloak rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for flames. For a child is born to us, a son is given us…”) and the letter to Titus.

Predictably, Kathy blew a gasket when I told her what I had to do. Then she turned to and wrapped some games that I had in storage—thankfully there was one age appropriate toy for each child in Jennifer’s family. These were games I bought last year for Social Justice in case some pledges were not fulfilled. I thought there were some more toys up at church but found that nothing was left after our day of Christmas packing.

We put a twenty in each of four envelopes for each kid and the parents, and my brother in law and I went up to church (again, thankfully I had kept the keys to the food room after the food packing last weekend). We filled a couple of boxes with food staples (cereal, pasta, PB&J, vegetables—that sort of thing, and then set off to find Jennifer’s house.

Turns out she lived a couple miles away, much further than we thought.

My brother in law and I carried the food and presents into the house, and he went back to the car while I talked to Jennifer. She started to cry, and asked me, “How do I keep from feeling guilty about not being able to give Christmas to my kids?” I was caught off guard by this whole scene because I planned to drop off the stuff and zip right out of there, and now it was turning into a counseling session, or was it a teachable moment?

I didn’t have any lesson at the ready, so I just mumbled something about how everyone passes through times like this and then told her to come to church on Christmas. She asked me the Mass schedule and I told her. We hugged and then I escaped.

So. What is the likelihood of her actually turning up at services today? Was I just being played? I called her before we left to go to her house, and she said that while she did not belong to our parish, she wanted to join. She wanted to get the kids involved in church, because she hadn’t done it when they were younger. Privately I thought it was a little late, especially for the twelve year old boy, but I didn’t say anything about that to her. She suggested that I might be able to send her some “literature” about “Sunday School”. That sounded like something you’d say to a telemarketer to get off the phone when you don’t want to say ‘No’ directly, but I wasn’t selling anything.

My feelings are all jumbled up about this. I’m as torn as a manic depressive person cycling through moods like riffling through playing cards. Here is the hand I am holding:

--I ought to feel good about helping someone in the nick of time on Christmas Eve,
--but I have this nagging feeling that I’ve been somehow made a fool of.
--On top of that, I feel bad that I couldn’t do more for Jennifer and her family.
--Layered on that is the fact that she doesn’t belong to our church or any church and seems unlikely to do anything about that.
--And who is she anyway that I should care so much?

Aww-let’s call the whole thing off.