A Missing Generation in Orthodox Christian America - The Return

 

I am a quiet person by nature.  I don't like to speak up in large groups and, for a variety of reasons, I am apprehensive to ask for assistance.  I know some it has to do with the fear of being rejected, and some of it has to do with the fear of being mocked for even asking the question and, truth be told, some of it has to do with flat out pride, as in "I don't need anyone's help".  As I've aged I have made some progress in this area, Glory to God. So for me to reach out to a priest I don't know other than through a person that I happened to randomly meet was a HUGE deal. 

I'll have you know dear reader that I did not immediately call Fr. Gabriel.  The encounter at the lab was in late October of 2002 and I didn't reach out to him until January of 2003.  My anxiety and fear of what he would say to me held me back.  I was terrified of priests.  Growing up, the two priests that I had the most interaction with had been very strict and at least in my recollection as a child, were not forgiving or understanding people.  Whether in reality this was true, I can't tell you for sure, however those were my perceptions.  I hold no ill will towards either of them at all, and as an adult I can understand why they were the way they were.  I pray for both of them daily and I think we oftentimes forget that the clergy are human beings.  They aren't perfect, and especially when you add the additional responsibility of being married with children, I can't even begin to imagine the burdens that they must carry. 

So, it took me about 3 months to muster up the courage to call Fr. Gabriel and set up an appointment to talk with him, but I did it. 

Fr. Gabriel was a small man with a kind presence. He was an unmarried priest-monk without any airs of superiority who simply sat and listened. Not wanting to freak the guy out, I was extremely hesitant to tell him much about my past other that the basics of where I was from, my marital status etc., nothing too personal at all.  I explained that although I had been raised Orthodox, other than what I've learned from reading a few books, I didn't understand much. Fr. Gabriel simply sat and listened and nodded while I spoke.  Finally, when I was done, he began to speak.  He told me how good it was that I came to see him and that the things that I told him were very common to many people my age. He gave me a prayer book to borrow until I bought my own and he told me to come back and we could talk some more. No judging, no condescension, no lecture. 

You'd think after this first meeting that I would have immediately started going to services, but I didn't.  It wasn't until I had spoken to Fr. Gabriel once or twice more that I finally mustered up the courage to go. I really did not want to talk to other people at the church.  I wanted to be left alone to figure some things out and I didn't want to have to explain to other people why I hadn't been going to church for all of those years.  My first conscious and deliberate return date to the Church was February 23, 2003.  Unbeknownst to me at the time, that was also the Sunday of the Prodigal Son. And, about one month later, I found out that I was pregnant with my second child, right around the time of the Feast of the Annunciation.  

There is still more to say about this which will be done in one final post later this week.