A Troubled Peace

The doors remain open 24/7 to the small Catholic church known as St. Dymphna’s. The wooden structure welcomes anyone seeking solace from their troubles. Aptly named, St. Dymphna is the patron saint of those suffering from mental illness, epilepsy, incest abuse, and runaways.

The sun shone bright in the Texas country sky as the middle-aged woman climbed the stairs to the white church’s red front door. The color of the door triggered thoughts of pain the woman was running from; not the color of love shared within a family, or with a spouse. As she opened the door, cool air brushed her face and ushered her into the entryway. What her eyes came upon were wooden pews centered in a quiet abyss with painted angels and a dove above an altar located at the front of the church. What was she doing here? Yes, she was a baptized Catholic from childhood, but as an adult, her practice of the faith was a zigzag pattern of Mass attendance. She had not been to Confession in several years. What prompted her to drive here? Did she expect to find an answer of some kind from the universe? Encounter the parish priest by chance who would listen to her woes and offer words of wisdom and comfort? Yes, she sought solace from her pain inside these sacred walls.

The past few years hadn’t been exceptionally happy for Marguerite. Her dad’s passing on Father’s Day three years ago from terminal cancer still felt surreal. Now, it was she and her mom sharing the apartment and navigating daily life. Since the pandemic 5 years earlier, Marguerite worked remotely for her employer from the apartment’s dining table each day. This was a blessing of time and accessibility to help as an extra caregiver for her dad. Now, caregiving was dedicated to her mom.

Sitting in one of the pews, Marguerite thought about her life. With a path comprised of numerous detours and dead-ends, here she was. At 57 years old, she was never-married (spinster), without children, or a college degree that had opened a career gateway. Way back when and at 19 years old, she started working as a receptionist with “hunt & peck” typing skills. Through hard work, she acquired “on-the-job” talents that transformed her into the administrative support professional she was now.

Immersed in thought while balancing on the kneeler; eyes closed with her head bent in silent prayer, Marguerite didn’t see the man walk past and take a seat in the pew directly in front of her. The man turned around and looked intently at Marguerite. He smiled when she opened her eyes and raised her head to meet his gaze. The man smiled and said, “hello”. Marguerite paused and returned the smile. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I’m not used to seeing anyone else here at this time of day.”, he said. “I’m David by the way.” Marguerite replied, “I’m not a usual church-goer. Today, I felt a need to stop by.”

David appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties. He had light brown hair which touched the top of his shoulders. David wore a button-down shirt like a man would wear on “business casual” Fridays at the office. His brown eyes didn’t stare, it was as if they were searching to find something when he looked at Marguerite.

Marguerite felt as though she needed to explain to David why she was sitting in church on a weekday afternoon. She asked him, “so you visit the church each weekday at this time?” Before David could answer, Marguerite continued, “I find myself at a crossroads in life. I’ve lost my way and am seeking some type of guidance.” David smiled and said, “I’m a good listener, if you’d like to share what is troubling you.” Without thinking first, Marguerite started to tell David what she felt was causing her anxiety and preventing her from enjoying life’s simplest joys with a grateful heart. Gratitude for having a job, a place to live, food to eat, and a close relationship with her mother. She didn’t forget to include what she considered her mistakes in life; not finishing college, being envious of siblings and friends who grew up to start families of their own and achieve the “American Dream.”

Here she was…single, responsible for her mother, and without a cozy nest egg in her retirement fund. Not to mention, 9 months post diagnosis of invasive ductal carcinoma (breast cancer) and 6 months post bilateral mastectomy. Chemotherapy was not part of the treatment she underwent. The oncologist said based on the pathology of her cancer cells, chemotherapy would not be beneficial. Radiation therapy, 5 days a week for 5 weeks was the treatment given. In a few months, she would undergo reconstructive surgery.

David listened quietly as Marguerite revealed her anxieties and displeasure with herself for not feeling grateful. After she finished, David took a breath and spoke softly, “I’ve experienced anxiety myself. That is part of being human. Instead of allowing ourselves to go deeper into that darkness, having a small ounce of faith can be the power shift to transform our thinking and bring light into our lives. Light has the ability to expand and grow when given the chance.”

Marguerite felt a lightness of being at hearing David’s words. The rocks packed into her emotional backpack seemed to lighten. David stood up and before he left, asked Marguerite if he could take her hand. She complied. It was as though a soft warmth radiated up through her arm and settled into her heart. David left the pew and walked to the back of the church. Marguerite watched him as he opened the church door and left.

She sat for another half hour contemplating her encounter with this stranger named David. From the side entrance to the altar, Fr. Mike approached the altar and glanced in the direction of the pews. He noticed Marguerite, not knowing who she was and smiled as he descended the altar steps and approached her pew. “Hi, I’m Father Mike, pastor here at St. Dymphna’s. May I help you?” Marguerite returned his smile and said, “Nice to meet you. I’m not a regular church-goer and came here today to seek guidance. I just met David and we had a short conversation which was very helpful. You must know him, since he is here at this time each weekday. He must be a regular parishioner.”

Fr. Mike looked puzzled and asked, “did David give you his last name? I’m usually the only person here during the week preparing my vestments and homily for Sunday Mass. I’m grateful you stopped by today and am happy to offer my assistance, if needed.” Marguerite replied, “thank you Fr. Mike. I came here today for solace, not expecting anything. However, I think this David was sent to help me; as if he was a guardian angel. Does that seem ludicrous to you?”

Fr. Mike did not look shocked at Marguerite’s words. In a gentle voice, he said, “God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes that could be placing someone, maybe a stranger in our path as his way of helping to overcome what is troubling us and preventing peace in our lives.”

Marguerite felt peaceful as she replied, “Amen, Fr. Mike. I think my experience here today was to remind me we aren’t alone in this world. We are not meant to carry our burdens by ourselves, no matter how lonely we may feel inside. Belief in the goodness of others and reaching out for help allows us to connect with each other. Thereby, we allow Him the chance to show us grace, mercy, and love.”

Fr. Mike smiled, “I couldn’t write a better homily. He returned to the altar and side entrance from where she first noticed him. Feeling a renewal in spirit, Marguerite stood and left the pew, walking to the back of the church. After stepping out the front door, she turned back and reflected on the door’s red color again, Marguerite didn’t sense pain this time, but love.