Leta Becomes a Roman Catholic, part two

Leta waited long enough, 30 minutes more than the usual drop-in time of her Lutheran pastor. He was not coming. He was not bringing her communion, he would not ask after her health, he would not pray with her. He had not telephoned. She had been waiting in the lobby for him for the better part of two and a half hours.

It was 4:30 in the afternoon. The residents of the senior home were starting to make their way to the dining room for supper. While they weren’t served until 5:30pm, some of the women liked to be ready. And many of them had little else to do.

Leta walked back to her room slowly. She felt more tired than she had in a long time. There were several other residents sitting in the hallway. Two were moaning for no obvious reason, only their way of expressing their unhappiness of being uncomfortable all the time. Usually she would get their attention and instruct them to cease, which was successful for a while. Today she didn’t care. Another lady, who was barely 80 but degenerating quickly, was hunched over in a wheelchair and drooling. If Leta’s nose was accurate, she had also soiled herself. Again, Leta’s practice was to inform one of the staff, but this time, she felt the pain in her heart and walked on.

For most of her time in the nursing home thus far, she had separated herself from many of the other residents. After all, she could still walk. She had her faculties. She took care of herself. She was nearly 80 years old and in good shape. But for the first time since arriving, she felt old and forgotten.

While she had been considering all the implications of converting to Roman Catholicism, she had not made up her mind to do it. Circumstance and a neglectful Lutheran minister had done it for her. The next morning, she went to the priest’s office.

“Father Anthony,” she said, “I want to be a Catholic.”

The priest didn’t flinch. He had heard such intentions before from residents. Some were serious about adopting the Roman Catholic faith. Others feared a rapidly approaching transition to the afterlife. Some were already people of faith, unable to attend services or activities at their prior places of worship, seeking a religious community.

“Tell me, Leta,” he inquired. “What brings this on? Aren’t you a Methodist?”

“Lutheran,” she corrected.

“Ah, yes, that’s right.”

“I’ve been thinking about this for some time,” she continued. “And I want to be a part of a religious community. I miss going to church. I miss praying.—“

“—Now, Leta,” he interrupted, “you can pray any time anywhere. You don’t need to be in church to do that.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, raising her voice slightly. “But it doesn’t feel the same as being in church. I need to go to church, and I need to take communion.”

“I see,” he said, folding his hands together. “And you think you can do that as a Catholic?”

“Of course,” she answered.

The priest eyed her for a few minutes.

“Let me give you some information on what it means to be Catholic,” he said. “You can read it, think about it, talk to your family and then if you’re still interested, we can talk more.”

“Father Anthony, I do not need to read anything or talk to anyone,” Leta declared. “I have thought this over. I have prayed about this. And this is my decision. Now, how do we get this process started?”

Five months later, Leta joined the Roman Catholic church. The process, she was told, took up to one year, nine months at minimum, but, she pointed out, at 80-plus years, she didn’t have that much time. Interestingly enough, only one of the members of her family objected strongly. If the others, those on Vivian’s side, did, none told her. Her son-in-law was as grim as always, but he had disapproved of her behavior—and sometimes of her—for years. Her grandson Larry, however, became angry and protested. In his thinking, being a Catholic was tantamount to joining a cult. He vowed that he would take her to church every Sunday, even though he rarely attended himself. For two months, he refused to speak with her, and whether or not he actually grew to accept the situation, Leta never knew. His mother put a stop to his behavior and her faith choice was never discussed again.

As for Leta, she was pleased to be able to attend services once or twice a week, interact with a faith community and maintain her relationship with God. Even as she declined in her late 80s, being able to participate in the religious life of her nursing home was a great blessing to her.