83/365 Servers Sacristy

I think the room makes you crazy. I cleaned that place out when I inherited the job from Dolores. Set things up how I thought it would work best--we used to have to trip over crap to get to what we needed. But it isn't my room. I'm not the only one there. I would put candle boxes away but would find them back out. I'd put them away again and find them in disarray the next week. Then I found a note from Wilma telling me to leave things alone. Block letters. I think she meant it. But I still would try to tidy--Hildegard too. Things just pile up. Don't know where to put it? Stick it in the servers sacristy and we'll work it out later. It just seems to happen that way. Post-Christmas, we're all so tired. Post-Easter, we're all so tired. Then busy.

So we met Tuesday--Hildegard, Jack, Miguel, and me--to clean the place out. I sorted through skeezy fabric while Jack took things out to the dumpster. Vacuuming, discarding, sorting. We took the doors off one of the closets--they didn't work anyway--and tossed a bunch of stuff we were saving, you know, just in case.

Leo played with toys on the carpet for a while, but grew tired of being alone. I sorted fabric while he stood next to me, holding on. I wonder sometimes how my children will view this stage of our lives. The stage when I spent so much time at church. Growing up, we were never more than churchgoers, except when I was in 8th grade. We were a little more involved then. (We were often involved in parish schools, but not in churches as much). I never entertained myself in a pew while my mother ironed altar cloths or discussed plans for flowers at Easter. I wonder if it will instill in them a desire to do the same. Or if this is something that just winds up skipping generations.

However it works out, they're stuck for now. At lunchtime, we broke up for the day and the place looked, well, usable. Not like a sad abandoned storage closet.

Collective parish memory is one thing. Collective parish saved junk is another. It does continue to improve as time goes by.