In October of 2021, my husband and I joined a local parish about a mile from our home. The parish had a 24-hour adoration chapel, beautiful music at Mass, and a pastor who was also an excellent confessor. We loved our previous parish, but the pandemic had changed our priorities about certain things. When I asked James where we should go for our home parish, he decided we would join the church closest to our house.
It was not an obvious choice for a young family of four. Most of the parish population was over sixty years old, and we were one of the only families at Mass with small children. The “cry room” was just the back foyer, which had cobwebs under the seats and no heating or air conditioning. Unfortunately, many of the parishioners also had the frigid, reserved manner typical of southeast Michiganders. They didn’t talk to us, welcome us into their parish, or show any signs of pleasure that we were joining their community.
When our Catholic friends asked us why we had switched, James and I both laughed.
“It’s not really so much about what this parish can give to us,” we explained. “It’s more about what we hope we can give to this parish.”
“Yeah, it seems like they need more help,” James added.
During the 8 years I’d known my husband, James had always emphasized the importance of “giving back”. James believed strongly in serving one’s local community, especially within the parish.
So when we joined our new church, we both got involved. I worked with another woman to start a parish intercessory prayer team. James joined the local Knights of Columbus council. Whenever we could figure out how to do it with two little ones, we participated in parish events—the pancake breakfasts, rummage sale, and Stations of the Cross. We tag-teamed with each other for Confession and braved the weekly adventure of Mass in a too-quiet, mostly childless church. In short, we became active parishioners.
Praying for Father
Every other Friday, I attended our parish intercessory prayer meeting. Our prayer team was relatively small – just five people – but each member was committed to the group and contributed their own gifts at our meetings. My role was to read through the list of special parish intentions. The first intention was always for our pastor, Father Philip*, and his personal intentions.
The longer I prayed for Father Philip, the deeper a desire grew in my heart to serve our pastor and parish even more. I wasn’t sure exactly how I could do this, since I was the primary caregiver for our children, and had little flexibility in my daily schedule. Still, this desire grew and grew each day as I continued to pray for Father and our little church. My heart burned to do more for our financially struggling, under-manned community, but as yet, no feasible opportunity had become available.
On a spiritual level, however, I noticed a growing connection between my own struggles and those of our church and its pastor. In January, I had a rough, painful fall down our basement stairs; I offered it up specifically for Father Philip. My anxiety and insomnia over finishing my memoir occurred at the same time Father was ill and quarantined with Covid. I offered that trial up for him, too. Then most dramatically, Father Philip offered a challenge to his parishioners on Holy Thursday.
“If no one is still here praying before the Altar of Repose at 9 pm, I will remove the Blessed Sacrament early,” he declared.
From my place in the back of church, my eyes widened in alarm, then narrowed in determination. There’s no way that’s happening. I won’t let Jesus be all on His own tonight.
Stepping Up to the Challenge
When my son and I came home from the liturgy, I told James about Father’s challenge. We came up with a “Team Kreger” plan: I would tuck the kids in bed while James went to visit the Altar of Repose. When he returned, we would switch places.
By the grace of God, the kids fell asleep that night without incident. I watched the near full moon rise in my south-facing window, a physical reminder of this sacred time of year. When James came home from the Altar of Repose, I was ready to take his place. I slapped the baby monitor into his hand like a baton and drove back to the church to complete the race.
The sun had long set by the time I arrived at church. I hurried past two women talking quietly as they left the building. Had I come too late? Had Father removed the Altar of Repose while James and I were switching places?
I pushed through the double glass doors. Behind the altar, the golden tabernacle was open and empty. A few soft lights illuminated the west side of the church.
As I walked around the altar, I saw clearly that Jesus was still there, in His Altar of Repose. I had made it in time to join Him spiritually in the Garden of Gethsemane!
About a half dozen parishioners were present, praying. I approached them and the little altar, knelt in the front for a few minutes, then took a position a little farther back. I thought of how Jesus had asked his disciples to stay awake with Him and pray.
I am here, Jesus. You are not alone.
That Lent had been marked by interior sorrow and struggle, but it had ended with hope. I watched my friend Lisa marry a caring and exceptional young man. I received invaluable insight from my editor Ruth about my book. And I’d also experienced that mysterious closeness with the Lord—a certain “expansion of the heart”.
Keeping Vigil
Everything that I’d learned and experienced during the last 40 days, I now placed before the Lord. I offered it up for our parish and especially our weary, discouraged pastor.
Close to 9 pm, Father Philip returned to the church to pray. He knelt in the very front, right before Jesus.
I glanced behind me to see who was still there. Of the few parishioners left, one of them was a member of our prayer team, with her husband. I imagined our prayers silently merging, moving forward to support and strengthen Father.
We all needed prayers, but I felt in my heart that if the Devil was going to bring down our little parish, the first person he would try to take down was the pastor. Father needed prayer warriors to protect him from spiritual attack.
And so, perhaps, the Lord had drawn me and these other prayer warriors to His Altar of Repose tonight. I had come so that Jesus would not be alone before His Passion; but now I wondered if Jesus was also trying to show Father Philip that he was not alone. A small band of parishioners were still present, keeping vigil with Father and Our Lord until the very end.
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*Name changed
Thank you so much for reading! I apologize for the long wait since my last post. I have been living out many new blog posts these past three months, which I am excited to share with you all this November and December!
Also, in case you missed it, here is the link to my last post on Monastery in My Heart:
A Nun Takes the Veil (monasteryinmyheart.com)
