28-year old Mary

“Looks like a popular Mass,” Mary thought as she slowed to a stop in front of the church. A small crowd crossed in front of her, avoiding puddles of melting snow as they made their way to the church entrance. “Looks young-ish too,” she noted, watching a young father manage three adorable children who had captured the attention of a group of teenage girls. Several well-dressed middle aged couples greeted each other with hugs. “So far, so good,” Mary thought as she navigated her way around the crowded parking lot, an obvious sign of health. And based on the happy looking people she had passed on the way in Mary felt optimistic. She already liked the look and feel of the exterior and had high hopes. “This might be the place for me.”

Just eight months earlier, Mary accepted a job transfer to manage a regional sales group located in the Midwest. The new job came with a hefty salary increase, a company car and covered all of her moving expenses. Mary had never considered leaving the East Coast, but she was still single, 28 years old, and living in the heartland of America appealed to her, regardless of its lack of landscape. She joked with her old friends that Illinois was “flat as a pancake” but the people seemed nice.

Now, looking back, Mary recalled four words her dad whispered to her just before she boarded the plane “Find a nice parish.” He never failed to ask her every time they spoke, “Have you found a church yet?” Somehow, Mary was able to brush over the fact that she had not. In fact, since she had arrived, her old college habit of not attending church at all became the norm once again. It seemed okay for a while; she was busy at work and finding her way around really kept her busy. But now, the busyness was wearing off, and she was lonely. Her job was stressful; she craved a peaceful place where she could be centered. She joined a yoga class which helped a little, but not enough. Mary needed more. She often thought about the various charitable causes she supported in the old neighborhood, and wondered if there was a soup kitchen or shelter where she could volunteer her time. Sometimes she cried as she prayed late at night. One night, as she lay awake listening to the whistle of a distant train, Mary heard the sound of church bells, and she heard her dad’s words: “Find a nice parish.”

She realized she needed to meet other young adults and reconnect with a faith community. Months earlier Mary received a postcard from a nearby Catholic church welcoming her to the neighborhood; she was amazed to find it was still in a messy pile of papers under her coffee table. Coincidentally a friend from work had mentioned the name of that same Catholic Church, although he also invited her to join him for services at his non-denominational church.

Mary walked through the doors, passing clusters of people engaged in small talk, some greeting old friends, others in more serious conversation. No one noticed her. “It’s okay, why would they notice me; look how big this place is.” She picked up a song sheet on her way into the sanctuary. The church was nearly full, and most people were chatting with friends or family members sitting nearby as they waited for the Mass to begin. Such happy faces, how friendly and warm it felt. It pulled at her heart. “This is a good place,” she thought as she scanned the pews for a place to sit. She spotted what she thought was a seat, but as she drew nearer, she saw several coats on the pew, no room for her to sit. A few people looked up from their conversations but no one acknowledged her, or motioned to her that she could sit with them. No usher appeared to help her find a seat. Walking to the back of the church, her optimism waning, Mary stood there for several minutes and finally decided to stand in the back of the church.

At the beginning of Mass, everyone was invited to turn around and greet those around them. And they did. It was amusing, Mary thought, watching people leave their pews to greet the same people they had just finished talking with. She tentatively put out her hand several times, and attempted to make eye contact. But no one greeted Mary. She felt awkward. She felt invisible. “I’m here to worship,” she reminded herself as she sang along with the congregation and participated as best she could. When it was time for the sign of peace, Mary decided that she would offer peace to the people in the row in front of her. She stepped forward and waited while they hugged each other. She smiled weakly as they turned away from her, reaching across the pews to shake the hands of the people in front of them, the same ones they greeted and chatted with earlier. Feeling a little self conscious, Mary looked around and saw an older woman still sitting and offered her a sign of peace.

“I have to be fair, these people all know each other, and they don’t know me.” But, feeling more alone than ever, Mary slipped out the back after communion. No one noticed.