prodigal parishioner

Yesterday at the church-door-reception, I shook hands with "Alfred." 

He stopped the recessional line to say to me, "I was baptized in this church exactly sixty years ago today, and this is my first time back! Thank you for a great service!"  He was complimentary and clearly glad that he came, on this day, Trinity Sunday.

I responded by welcoming Alfred back, by expressing my own gladness that he was here on this day and invited him to stay for coffee in the air-conditioned parish hall.  I was equally giddy that he was here and introduced him to the lay server who was standing next to me. "Welcome back, Alfred!" he exclaimed, and he, also expressed welcome and curiosity.  It was a happy affair that held up the line for a few minutes.

I reached out to shake hands with the next parishioner in line. As I am relatively new to this parish of more than a thousand people, it is my custom to say, "Remind me your name again?"

"Barbara. It's Barbara," she huffed.  She hardly would take my hand.  She said to me, "I have been a member in this church since 1963 and no one ever greeted me like that. I have been at this church every week since then and ..." she began to list out all the ministries in which she had participated.  Clearly this was "her" church and "she" was the reason it was still here. 

I considered the two parishioners.  Very much like the prodigal son story - one who "kept the fires burning" while the other "never set foot back in a church after my baptism."  Theologically, I believe that God called them both into this community for a reason, and only they (and God) know what that is. 

At this point, I'm not sure what to do with this anecdote.  It just struck me as profound.