The Tree Lot

In 2006, my parish was part of the yearly priest shuffle. Our pastor left for a different thing and we were joined by a brand new pastor--he'd been an associate, but this was the first time he was pastor anywhere. I have to think we were kind of a plunge into icy cold water.

I was on parish council, just so happens, in a last-ditch effort to stay engaged, to stay Catholic. I was still about a year away from finding myself to my monastery, but being elected/chosen for the council was a big step for me. And I was so very happy to be on the council with Miguel arrived, because I sort of had a front seat view of what was going to happen.

What happened was change. Not all at once, but things changed. I was glad to be part of the change because it was well-articulated, justified, and beautiful. Sister was a big part of this change as well--and many others who played small roles like me.

I helped clean house (literally, I mean, in the sacristies). I made some banners. I collaborated with strong women I hardly deserved to be collaborating with. There were hard times but what I remember is the good.

One of the changes was Christmas decorating. Sister put me in charge for some reason. Christmas Eve was on a Sunday that year, and I remarked that it wouldn't happen again until 2017. "Well I won't be here by then!" I remember Sister, and Fr. Miguel, both declaring. And I remember feeling a little bit wistful about the future, because I already sort of knew that I would be.

We doubled our poinsettia order. We moved the creche and replaced the one we'd been using that had baby Jesus and his broken hands. And we ordered trees from the scout tree lot on our parking lot like we were told was done.

That last sentence? It went badly. I look back on it and I'm totally bewildered even now why it went the way it did. Sister and I went to pick up the trees and we were treated badly. Thank goodness Sister was there as well because I needed another sane(r) witness. The Bridgett inside me, the one who fired her florist three days before the wedding? That Bridgett took over. Jake and I took those trees from the lot, from the men who had treated us like stupid children, and recycled them down in Carondelet Park. Then we drove to North Broadway and bought the last two trees on a wholesaler's lot.

The people who ran the tree lot were dead to me.

Not a very Advent-ish thing to feel.

Nine years later, here we are. Our parish has been caught up in a late-year priest shuffle. It's hard not to take this personally. In addition, Sister is gone, doing good things for her order. We have a new priest and I'm not on parish council. The time of my life is different--I'm not a stay at home mom ripe for the volunteering. I'm a full time middle school math teacher with aspirations and three kids going 5 directions and my life is a lot richer and a ton busier.

So I don't have a front row view of what will change. I went to a meeting tonight that left me empty. I can't make this what it's not. Change has come and it's so very hard for me this time. The hardest. I can't be what I'm not and I don't have the time or limitless energy required to be everything I used to be plus everything I am and need to be now.

But what I can do is get trees for the church from the boy scout lot.

I can surprise the heck out of the guy with the white beard when I tell him we want to support him this year. They're having a hard year, it's their biggest fundraiser, and some of their trees were stolen. So buying 5 trees for around the creche in church is a nice gesture and he was happy. So was I.

I can laugh with the woman who meets me at the lot this evening and shows me the trees. I can be honest and broken-down in the best ways when I tell her that it was time for a change. What I mean is that it's time for me to let this go too.

Then I came home and texted with friends and tried to sort all the feelings.

Change is hard. But I don't have to be.