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By now, just about everyone at Holy Redeemer knows me and my story, even if I have not met them personally. They know what musical instruments I play, they know about my commute, where I work, and that I'm in the process of converting. Word travels fast in a little chapel!
Doug and Linda are a couple about my parents' age who befriended me in my earliest days at Holy Redeemer. Especially when it became clear I would be heading down this path on my own, establishing new person-to-person connections at the chapel became of vital importance to me. I was instantly drawn by Linda's warm, open smile and her easy and friendly manner. Her husband Doug is at first blush a very serious and reserved man. He acts as altar server every other Sunday and on those Sundays he's not serving at the altar, he leads the congregation in praying the rosary prior to Mass. His voice is deep and calm, mesmerizing at times.
Without reserve, I remember telling Linda how I came to be there, about my family, and even my fears and reservations about this whole process. She listened attentively, taking in everything I said. When I spoke with her last week, she said that she had a grey wool suit about my size that she could no longer wear but didn't want to give away to Goodwill. She wondered if I would like it. I was blessed by her generosity and told her I would be grateful to have it. This last weekend she shared with me that her husband converted after twenty-five years of marriage. Her own openness so encourages me.
Yesterday her husband Doug asked me if he could bring the suit to my car for me.
"You're from Bellingham?" he asked. I replied that yes, I was and he asked how long a drive it was.
"About 110 miles," I replied.
"An impressive distance. I admire that kind of dedication," he said (this from a man who must first take a ferry from a neighboring island to get there).
He's not the first one to make this kind of comment. Honestly, it is one that makes me squirm a bit, even though I do appreciate and value what is being said. It's really not any form of modesty that makes me want to say, it's not a big deal (regretably, I have never been very good where modesty is concerned). Despite having had similar conversations with other parishioners, I feel unpracticed as to how to reply except to say that the drive is a relatively quick one on Sunday mornings (especially in the unusually beautiful weather we've been enjoying) and that every mile is worth it. I have yet to find the fitting words to say that I am blessed beyond the miles I drive or the money I spend putting gas in my car. I don't know quite how to sum up that I what I am receiving in exchange for miles and hours on Sundays is a complete steal when measured against what I am receiving in return.
It's as if I've given a quarter in exchange for a library, or a ten dollar bill for a luxury yacht. It's like I gave Starbucks a dollar in exchange for unlimited lattes for life (only so much better).
I guess that's it. I will drive the miles and give the hours because I'm receiving Jesus. My soul is hungrier for Him than ever before, and here I am filled.
And I leave wanting Him more.
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