 |
| How 're you going to keep them down on the farm - and would you really want to? |
Last week after the five o’clock Mass a family together came to find me, as they were about to set out to take their oldest to start at a university far away. They were not just letting me know why they would not be around this coming weekend. In fact, they asked for a blessing. It was also a leave-taking as the young person set out for a new chapter in life.
This meant a lot to me. I know that family, and that rising student, pretty well. They have been parishioners here for six or seven years, and active. I am pleased and proud, eager for things to go well, and hope to hear all about it on the next visit home.
This step, this stage in life, has been much on my mind this summer. You see, many of our rising college freshmen have been in this parish their whole lives, which means they have had precisely one pastor: me. I have known them since they were babes in arms; some I baptized.
Rather than marvel at how long I have known them, I find myself sympathizing with parents at how quickly this day comes. Eighteen years is hardly long enough to grow and learn and master all that you need to begin adulthood! Sure, they are big enough, and suddenly they look like they might be university students, but really – they are far too young…aren’t they?
Apparently not. I have been pastor long enough to grow from the ground up a promising crop of high-school graduates. I know the parents did all the dirty work, and the heavy lifting, and the difficult phases. But I was there! I watched and encouraged! I provided the sacraments that make possible growth in grace and life eternal, in holiness like unto God’s own. Who knows, maybe I even said something that stuck in their minds. And, though they may not know this, I have loved them.
They probably have no inkling how well I know them, much less how much I care for them. That’s a safe bet, as people that age often have no idea how much they are loved. They can’t wait to get away from all the same old grown-ups who have been hounding them and pounding them all their young lives. Being grown-ups, that’s what we do – as near as they can tell.
So as the summer slips away and August is suddenly upon us, my eyes dart around for a particular class of kids. I want a word, just a word, to let them know that who they are and what they are doing is important to me. They have been important to me for a long time, some of them fully eighteen years. To see, to speak, to bless. It’s all I’ve got, but it’s what I want to give.
My friend who texted me from the road is taking his youngest to start college. Talking about it last week, he envisioned the return trip with his wife sobbing for a while, maybe hours, in the seat next to him as they headed home to their empty nest. The kids are entering a new stage, but they are not the only ones.
Because celibacy provides abundance, my nest is not empty, nor will it be empty. I have no grounds to weep, only gratitude to have been woven by grace into the fabric of so many complex, capable, and charismatic young lives. This I look upon, and see that it is very good. Godspeed.
Monsignor Smith
