Bittersweet Sunday

On at least a couple of occasions, I've written about St. Patrick's Catholic Church, where Jude and I attend, and our priest, Father Eric Fowlkes. It's a special, special place for us, in large part because Father Eric is such an amazing priest. In short, he's the kind of priest that makes you want to get out of bed on Sunday mornings to hear what he is going to have to say in the homily. He's welcoming, kind and always seems to radiate warmth and good humor.

Well, today we took John Patrick to St. Patrick's for his second Sunday church service. Last week, Father Eric was on vacation, but today he had returned. It was with a sense of anticipation that we took our seats in the rear of the church in a small pew, with John Patrick in his car seat, sleeping. We were looking forward to introducing him to Father Eric for the first time.

Near the beginning of the homily, I was looking at John Patrick, to see if he was still sleeping, when Jude elbowed me and nodded toward Father Eric at the front of the church. My heart nearly stopped when he began to talk about the ordination of three new priests in our diocese and how, as part of the ceremony, they took an oath to serve the church and obey Bishop David Choby, as well as his superiors. Father Eric had taken the oath, as well, at his ordination, in July 1989. Next, he told us that Bishop Choby recently had met with him at length and asked him to accept an assignment to Our Lady of the Lake Catholic Church in Hendersonville, where he would replace a retiring priest, Father William Bevington.

Jude and I just stared at each other in disbelief as our hearts sank. I felt several different emotions, all at once . . . anger, disbelief, disappointment, sadness, a sense of loss and resignation, to name a few. Truthfully, I'm still trying to process the news that Father Eric is leaving St. Patrick's. Right now, it's difficult to imagine going to church there without him.

All of those emotions were present as I stood in line to receive the Eucharist from Father Eric, especially sadness and disappointment. As my turn came, I made eye contact with him, as I always do, and his penetrating, blue eyes seemed to linger on mine a little longer than normal. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I could see sorrow in his eyes. Perhaps others in our congregation noticed it, as well.

After the service, Jude and I waited in line to speak to Father Eric on the front steps of the church. We shook his his hand and told him how sorry we were to hear he would be leaving St. Patrick's. Then, we introduced him to John Patrick, who was still sleeping quietly in the car seat I had set down at our feet. With the Sunday morning sun shining brightly down on us all, Father Eric leaned over and whispered quietly to John Patrick, giving him a blessing, and making the sign of the cross on his forehead as he lay there, sleeping.

I don't know that I've ever felt so happy and sad at the same time. Bittersweet, indeed.