1. The Family

It was a beautiful spring day in Michigan. The flowers were just beginning to bloom, and buds were blossoming on once-barren tree branches. The snow had disappeared for another season, and the temperature had actually climbed above sixty degrees for the first time all year. Jennifer Tracey drove her 2013 Chevy Tahoe south on Farmington Road toward the church. She thought, what a great weekend for a camping trip. The boys needed this; I hope they like Father Gerry.

She pulled into the parking lot of Our Lady of the Lakes Church and School. She parked, exited the old truck and headed for the rectory. She spotted the group almost immediately. Actually, she spotted a bunch of backpacks, camping equipment, pop bottles, shoes, socks, and other debris strewn across the lawn of the rather impressive two-story brick home. She was the first parent to arrive, not surprising considering she was a half hour early.

Jennifer was excited to see the boys. This was their first overnight since Father Bill’s transfer. Father Bill was the only man that the boys had warmed up to since their dad, Jim, had passed away. My God, she thought. Has it been three years already? She remembered the day of the accident like it was yesterday—the phone call from the plant; the shocking news; the rush to Botsford Hospital; the all-night, prayer-dominated vigil; and, finally, the doctor coming out of surgery shaking his head and saying, “I’m terribly sorry. We did all that we could.” She remembered telling the boys, then nine and eleven, that their father had been called to heaven. Jake, her sensitive nine-year-old, wanted to know if he could visit. Kenny, always the more outspoken of the two, sat stunned, staring at the sky with those piercing green eyes of his, asking, with heart, not voice, why the Lord had chosen to take his father at this time when he needed him most. It was so unfair.

Jim’s loss had been terribly hard on the boys; they were bitter and sullen until they met Father Bill. He had just transferred from a parish in Pennsylvania when Jim’s accident occurred. After Jim’s death, Bill made the boys his special project and, in a short time, became their substitute father. He took them to Detroit Tigers ball games, played ball with them, took them camping, and even let them sleep overnight at the rectory. They became altar boys and were adjusting to life without their father fairly well. Then, one day last month, Father Bill came by the house and announced that he had been transferred to a parish in Virginia. He spent three years in Michigan, and it was time to move on. The boys may as well have heard that Father Bill had died, like their dad. Father Bill’s farewell celebration was more like a wake. He took the boys aside and tried to explain that he was required to do God’s work wherever the church sent him. He said that he’d try to visit as often as possible, but the boys were unconvinced. The looks on their faces when Father Bill drove off were almost as sad as those on the day they heard the news of their father’s death.

That was why this outing with Father Gerry was so important. Gerry was Bill’s replacement and had been at Lakes (the parish’s nickname) less than a month. This camping trip was his first chance to spend extended time with the boys away from parish responsibilities. Jennifer knew it would take some time, but she hoped that the boys would at least like him.

She climbed the porch steps and knocked on the door of the large bricked colonial. It was a typical suburban Michigan home—two stories with red, white, and black reclaimed brick and white aluminum siding. The grounds were massive since the house stood on church property. The lot was heavily treed, and the grass had been freshly trimmed. She could smell the fresh-cut grass, one of the wonderful smells of spring in Michigan.

Father Gerry came to the door and invited her in. There were boys running all over the house, chasing each other. The noise was deafening. Jennifer scanned the crowd but could not locate Jake or Kenny.

“Nice to see you again, Jenny,” Gerry said, upbeat.     

“Nice to see you too, Father. How was the outing?”

“The boys had a great time. They’re still having a great time, as you can see. Jake and Kenny are in the backyard. I’ll go get them for you.”            

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself, Father; you have your hands full here. I’ll get them.”     

“No trouble at all, Jenny. Wait here. I’ll be right back with the boys.”

Jennifer would have preferred to get the boys, given the noise level in the house. Instead, she walked out onto the front porch to wait in the sunshine. In “no time” (as Jake would say), Father Gerry appeared with her two sons. The contrast between Jake and Kenny and other boys was absolutely startling. They were sullen, gloomy.

“Here they are, safe and sound,” said Father Gerry. “Boys, say ‘hi’ to your mom.”

“Hi, Mom,” Kenny managed, barely audible.

“Yeah, hi, Mom,” said Jake, softly.       

“What’s the matter with you guys?” asked Gerry. “Did I tire you out that much?” To Jennifer, he said, “I ran these kids ragged—hiking, calisthenics, canoeing, all night stories, you name it. They’re tired. Take them home and put them to bed; they’ll be fine in the morning.”

Jennifer was in shock. The other boys were none the worse for wear. What was wrong with hers?

“Thank you, Father,” she managed. “I’ll do just that.”

The Tracey family got into the wagon, and Jennifer headed for home. The boys sat in the backseat together. Usually, they fought over who would sit in front. Jennifer’s concern level increased. 

“Did you guys have a good time?” 

No answer. 

“How was Father Gerry? He seems quite nice. Is he as good a camp director as Father Bill?” 

No answer. Jennifer was almost in panic mode.

She adjusted her rearview mirror to see her two silent sons. Kenny was looking at Jake fiercely with one finger to his lips, silently ordering him to be quiet. A single tear ran down Kenny’s cheek. The family drove home in silence. Something was terribly wrong.