In seminary, she was told to seek out God’s will and to do it, no matter the obstacle. Outside the classroom, however, this ideology of service only touched her in the most superficial ways. Until it didn’t, of course. “You should be careful what you pray for,” she’d often remark, “You may just end up with it.”
Even so, after just a few weeks of beginning her internship, she received an urgent call. A church needed her, so she uprooted her family and threw her lot in with the quant brick building she’d only known as a girl.
More than five years had elapsed since that phone call, and Mary had exhausted herself competing for the attention of her aging congregation. The good-natured saints in the pew often didn’t appreciate the subtleties of her neat doctrine, but at least most were trying to fight through the haze of another drowsy Sunday morning.
At times, she felt like the caretaker of a historical site that most people preferred to drive past, not the careful shepherd of a faith community that had blessed the children now absent from the worship service. In 2019, when the roof needed to be replaced, she and her family took their vacation fund and dutifully paid for the required supplies. The following Sunday, she looked up at the roof as the late arrivers filed in through the creaky double doors.
The dreary nature of her work was starting to weigh heavily on her, and she was considering a return to secular work.
One Saturday, she received a call from the local hospital notifying her that one of her parishioners was terminally ill and would not be able to return home. Mary knew it was her responsibility to visit the ailing woman, but she felt wearied and didn’t know if she had the emotional strength to handle another tragedy.
Despite her uneasiness, Mary decided to provide the expected last rites. The room was dimly lit, and the air was heavy with the scent of disinfectant. Death was already warming up for the inevitable taking. The woman lay in the bed, her breathing shallow and labored. Her skin was pale, and her eyes widened as Mary entered the room.
The woman’s face lit up as she recognized Mary, and tears welled in her eyes. She reached for Mary’s hand and clutched it tightly. The women recounted stories about her life, her hidden shames, her sudden illness, and her fears of the world to come. Mary listened intently, quietly praying for comfort as the machines surrounding them hummed with each heartfelt confession. Death stalked in the corner of the room.
The woman grew silent, and Mary thumbed through her prayer book for what felt like an abnormally long time. A nurse entered the room, but the two of them hardly noticed. At last, she began the blessing, “Almighty God, look on this your servant, lying in great
weakness, and comfort her with the promise of life everlasting…”
She inhaled God’s breath and exhaled the same. She closed the red leather-bound book and dabbed her moist cheeks, then asked the nurse to notify the funeral home.
“Lord have mercy,” she remarked as she stood up. Indeed, she pondered, God knew she needed it, too.
