What Becomes of the Broken-hearted

It's official.  Effective July 1, I will become the associate pastor at Blessed Sacrament Church in Rapid City.  Soon thereafter, Fr. Nathan Sparks will assume his duties as associate pastor of the Cathedral Parish.

For months now, I have suspected that this would happen.  To some extent, because of that, I have been too easily convinced to go out and have fun with people rather than do my work in the office.  I have been trying to milk every moment of time I can with the people I have come to love.  For several weeks prior to learning this news myself, I found myself in tears for no apparent reason just because the thought of leaving was so painful.

I had hoped that once I knew for sure, it would get easier.  It didn't, especially because I was not allowed to tell anyone that I would be leaving until they learned it through the official announcements in the parish.  I have to admit that I did not keep this secret well.  There were plenty of people who knew before the announcement was made.  It was too much to carry alone.

For some, I suppose, this may sound silly.  I am just moving across town, after all.  It is much more than that, though.  I am leaving my family, and I am entrusting them to the care of another.  I am leaving my fishing buddies, my hunting buddies, my friends, my brothers, my sons.  While there will remain perpetually a special bond between us, from now on, they are no longer mine.  And as ridiculous as it is, a part of me worries, "Will I be replaced in their hearts?  Am I just one more in the progression of priests who pass through the Cathedral every couple of years?"  For Fr. Nathan's sake I hope I will.  For my own, I hope I will not.

I feel terrible too, because I worry that I approach my new parish with a heart divided.  I wonder how I am going to be able to love them?  They are good people and they deserve a priest dedicated to them?  How do I give my heart to them now?

The realistic part of myself knows that this was going to happen sooner or later, and that when I eventually leave Blessed Sacrament it will happen there too.  That knowledge terrifies me.  How many times can I give my heart knowing that it will ultimately be rent in two?  It is this reality that I have been writing about for several posts now.  I need to let my heart be pierced, and to recognize this experience as a profound experience of love.  But it is, literally, the most painful thing I have ever had to do.

Once I made light of a difficulty a cousin of mine was having in a relationship with a woman.  My Father rebuked me, "Has your heart ever been broken?  When it is maybe you will understand."  

It seems that I am finally beginning to understand.