I recall the day vividly. I was new to the parish. I hated the feeling of being “new” and feeling like a bow on a pig, not belonging. I went to the 3rd pew from the front, genuflected, entered the pew and knelt down to begin my long litany of prayers. As I sat my purse on the pew, the woman at the other end of the pew smiled at me. It was just a smile, but it was a recognition of me, a warm and welcoming recognition. And I immediately felt at home, even though I was alone. At the end of the Mass, I walked over and introduced myself. And she smiled and said simply, “Welcome to Lake Mills. My name is Grace.”
Grace and I shared that pew for several years. I walked to her every week and spoke with her for a few seconds. She had been my anchor in that place whenever I felt at sea. When her health declined and she needed her son to accompany her, they sat in the front pew. After mass, I’d walk up and greet her briefly, never forgetting what her simple kindness had meant to me. I was greatly saddened when I learned that she had passed away. But I still remember her whenever I take my usual seat. She and her memory are with me still.
This morning, I thought of Grace again, as I frequently do. What may seem to some an insignificant moment, is a moment of grace, and every such moment should be acknowledged and appreciated. As we journey in faith, filled with hope, and fueled by love, let us remember to be welcoming to others, to acknowledge their presence, to accompany them even if we aren’t “together.” Let us realize the importance of the little things, a smile of welcome, a short but sincere greeting, learning another’s name and using it. Let us be honest, this life can be a frightening and sometimes lonely journey. Let us seek to be instruments of the LORD’s peace and the Spirit’s grace whenever and wherever we can.
Until tomorrow, let us all love well.
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