Monthly Archives: September 2024

We had another class reunion last week. We’re all so close we can’t stop getting together. In attendance were our brilliant and humble valedictorian, our beautiful cheerleader-school principal-grandma, and a heartbroken mother whose son had just died from cancer. He was going to give her his kidney, to save her from three days a week of dialysis.

Each of us sat with her, holding her hand, listening as she described the many terrible deaths in her family in recent years. And then we moved on. There were so many people to see, so many photos to pull up on our phones. But one classmate, who has never been attracted to religious observance, said to our grieving friend, “You will never go to one more dialysis appointment by yourself. I will pick you up at 5:30 am and stay with you through every appointment. Don’t even think about going through this alone.” Works without faith is such a powerful witness.

And I always preface this next story by saying, “That’s who I went to high school with.” One bitterly cold January afternoon I was attempting to navigate the icy ramp out of the grocery store, my cart slipping to the left and right. A beautiful young lady, maybe fourteen years old, was just coming out of the store. “Can I help you?” Relief flooded through me. “Yes! I’m in trouble here. Please help me.” She immediately and easily took my cart down the ramp and to my car. While unloading the groceries, her grandma looked at me in surprise and said, “Oh, hi, Kathy.” We hadn’t seen each other since our last reunion.

Don’t you love seeing “works” at work in the world?

What good works are you extending these days?

Kathy McGovern ©2024

Reflecting on Is. 35: 4-7a

Two weeks ago, I had an unforgettable experience. August 23^rd, the feast day of St. Rose of Lima,  set off a weekend of joyful reunions at St. Rose of Lima Catholic Church in Denver. The parish celebrated its one-hundredth-year anniversary. The little church with the big heart, sitting snugly in the Platte River Valley, has been home to various ethnic groups—-from its German founders to its present, vibrant Hispanic community—and hundreds of “legacy families” that filled the pews for generations.

The word “grace” means “undeserved kindness.” During the 1980s, I had the grace to serve on the staff at this uniquely loving parish. Coming back after several decades, I was nearly lifted into the air by the stunning congregational singing at the joyous anniversary Mass. But why was I crying so uncontrollably, that evening and well into the next day? It was because the scales fell off my eyes, and my deaf ears were opened. I saw and heard all the loving family and friends, many deceased, many still alive, who had been so present to me during those years.

I saw every dear choir member who gave up so many precious evenings in order to learn music for the beautiful Sundays we shared at St. Rose. I saw those gorgeous “sock hops” we had in the gym, colors swirling through the room, the live band keeping hundreds of dancers going ‘til the late hours.

I saw the beloved bishop of our Archdiocese, coming home from the chancery and checking in with each of the housekeeper’s kids. I saw a great cloud of witnesses to those one hundred years. I hear their voices even now.

Close your eyes and see the ancestors who built your parish. Say, thank you.

Kathy McGovern ©2024