Pastoral care

One Sunday morning this past spring, we were lingering after Mass a little longer than we usually do.  The weather was not spectacular, but nicer than it had been.  Several seminarians were helping us dawdle.  One was pretending to throw Myles into the fish pond repeatedly and Brigid was playing with a few others.  Around that time I noticed several cars, nice cars, some with diplomatic plates, pulling into the church driveway.  Large groups of foreigners were gathering in front of the church.  It wasn't until I saw the children among them, boys in suits and girls in white dresses, that I realized they were here for first communion.

It was about then one of the priests whom I sometimes see at the seminary approached me with some urgency.  I knew from previous meetings that he spoke excellent English.  He told me that the foreigners arriving were from two groups of Europeans that usually meet elsewhere but were using the church for their First Communion celebrations.  This reminded him of something they've been meaning to ask me, what was my plan was for Myles' own sacraments.

I stuttered.  I sputtered. Myles was only six-and-a-half. Age of reason was an entire six months away.  I rather embarrassedly answered that I hoped he would join the first communion class there at the seminary, and, by the way, when would that start?

He told me that with the seminary parish being mainly made up of migrants, they did not often have first communions or anything like that, at least not for children.  Even though they did offer Sunday School, it was not necessarily for sacramental preparation.  The families here would normally return to their own hometowns to celebrate their children's milestones in Life in Christ.

He then offered that an English-language group had organized, with Nantang as their home parish. In addition to Mass they were offering Sunday School classes, with first communions and confirmations and all the normal parish activities. He wondered if that would be an option for us to consider.

I reminded him that we lived in Changping, and the seminary was the closest parish to us.  We already drove 45 minutes each way on a Sunday.  Nantang would be at least twice that far. If it were the only option for Mass we would bear it, but the seminary suits us.

He agreed that the distance was surely an obstacle, but he was still worried about Myles' sacraments.  I told him that we already bought catechetical materials in the US (the outstanding Family Formation program emails us the materials every month!) that we use at home. Since we were teaching him everything else at home, it was only natural that we took this on, too. 

Whether we contact the group at Nantang or try to take of the first confession and communion during one of our trip home I have to figure out soon.  Myles will be seven in little more than a month!  But what struck me was that the priests of the seminary really see us as their responsibility.  There have been times I wish we were back in Shenzhen, at Nantou parish, where we were so darn involved in the parish life there. And there are times I really feel alone out here in Changping, totally left to our own devices regarding EVERYTHING.  But something about that morning made me feel a little less....abandoned.