At Home At Church
In April 2022, two weeks after I was confirmed, Fr. Ignacio asked me to consider being a Mercy Missionary. Now I see that the last two years of mission have brought me closer to the St. Michael’s community than anything else I could imagine.
Today, I consider this church my home, in more ways than one: I am home in adoration in the silent church on a spring afternoon, I am home printing handouts for a Mercy Night on the ancient basement computer, and I am especially home at Mass, praying among all the friends I’ve made these past two years.
St. Michael’s itself is a place of safety, one to which we invite our friends on the streets as a peaceful place to pray--somewhere to go when they need a place to be with the Lord, apart from mind-clouding drugs and nosy neighbors. For those of us who are missionaries, it is our home base. We are so grateful to have the Eucharistic presence of Jesus so that we can go out to the streets filled with His love and peace. And that’s not all that makes St. Michael’s home.
For the past two years, I’ve had two prayer partners, Richard and Erlinda Fazio. They are loyal parishioners from the days of St. Michael’s as Portland’s Italian national parish. They got married here two remodels ago, in the early 1980s, and had their children baptized here. They now have grandchildren of their own, but it feels like they’ve adopted me as one more, baking cookies for the missionaries and always checking in to see how I’m doing. Erlinda even serves beside us at our Thursday lunches, asking the names of each of the people in line for soup.
As our time wraps up in June, my heart is continually filled with gratitude for the ways this community is a true community of Christians, ready to offer prayers for the mission. They have been ready to share everything from their beach houses to financial support for the Mercy Mission. I especially thank everyone who has prayed for me personally--the Lord has done amazing things with your sacrifice, and He will reward your generosity a hundredfold.
by Ariel Lewin