My job was to update the accounts for the Water Drive and Distribution. As I worked I watched cars drive up to back of the church to collect their allotment of bottled water and there was a busy group of people working on other projects, including a food pantry and a women’s shelter.
The office phone rang constantly and the church secretary, Kathy, fielded them all with great patience but each time she put the phone down she put her head in her hands and said, “where was I”?
As it turns out, the diocese finance office requested a meeting smack dab in the middle of high Holy Week and someone else double booked the cantor for Good Friday services. Kathy sorted these problems out and then cooked corned beef sandwiches for the volunteers’ lunch. She typed up the Sunday service, counselled a social worker, and fixed a printer while I plugged in numbers and addressed letters.
And when I told her that the deposit for water donations came to $666.00 she reached in her wallet and handed me $2.00. “No honey,” she said. “We can’t have that. Add this to the donations. There’s no way I’m having that.”
Kathy knows how to fix everything.
I might have to go to mass on Sunday. And I’m not even Catholic.