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Another
windy, grey weekend.
Hard to believe there is sunshine and summer somewhere near.
Walked
to the church and sat there.
It was a quiet afternoon-
no-one else came in.
The brass cross sits high above the altar.
I haven't been to Mass since that sermon,
the one that spoke to me only of intolerance and negativity,
nothing inspirational.
In front
of that cross I tried to find the person of Jesus.
When did I ever meet Jesus the person?
Once long ago when a priest helped me forgive myself and my mother
our relationship strained by teenage angst
when she died.
Jesus came there to embrace my mother and myself.
A second
time this year when a priest
shared lunch and conversation
told me more about Catholic things (assumed I had a brain)
listened to my story,
found ways I was Catholic,
urged me to Mass.
Jesus was in the midst of that shared meal.
So I
sat with that Cross feeling lost,
Told Jesus I knew he knew I felt lost
that the table does not seem as if it will ever be mine to share
at
that I could not see any answer.
I need
to know how Jesus would treat me if he met me in the crowd,
with everyone thronging around him.
Would he have any time at all
for someone like me without much faith?
Or would he only see those who had faith?
I sat
in front of the cross, very aware of my self-absorption
instead of thinking more of others.
I looked
for the confessional in that church.
It is nowhere obvious.
I left
the Church
knowing I had been heard.
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