Thank You St. Jospeh, Pillar of Families Parishes by Fr. Aaron Hess

 I am writing this a week ago Sunday evening after the farewell open house for me and Fr. Jarred (technically this is due Monday morning… so nothing like procrastinating on the last one!) The last month there have been so many people generously having me over for meals or to catch up, which has been such a blessing, and my heart is full. I am honored also by how many of you came to that open house to say goodbye. There were many laughs, I cried a few times. There was one gentleman who came up to me who was choked up to the point where he didn’t say anything, and I got choked up and didn’t say anything to him either. We briefly shook hands, and then he moved on; not a word was spoken, but none had to be.  If that man is reading this (and I sincerely hope you are), thank you, even if we didn’t have words that afternoon. You have been a blessing to me.

I think that interaction is a perfect encapsulation of how I am feeling: I don’t really know how to say goodbye well. I don’t like it one bit! I will keep myself busy packing and continuing daily tasks, pranking office staff (sorry Megan!), making jokes, and when I do have to say goodbye, I lighten the conversation by deflecting or pointing out that there are certainly chances that we will see each other again.  And I truly do want that, to continue the many friendships I have built the last three years in Shelby County. But even with that, it is still a goodbye, and I don’t like those, and I’m not good at them. As I’m typing this, Fr. Jarred walked by me, the night before he leaves for vacation, and I realize that I haven’t really said goodbye to him yet either, nor thank him for being my first pastor, for helping me to grow both under and beside him.  I will miss him as a friend, a brother, and a mentor.

I think the reason this whole goodbye thing is weighing more heavily on me now is that I’ve realized something about the life of a priest that I haven’t really come face to face with before. Growing up in Mercer County and seeing how the communities here in Shelby County are, many people grow up, go to college or get a job, and eventually settle down close by. Even if they move from where they grew up, they still settle down and can build long lasting friendships, ones that will be there from their 20s, all the way to their 80s. And that is something that a priest has to sacrifice in his ministry. Yes, I will still continue friendships with parishioners from St. Joseph, Pillar of Families. But for now, I won’t be able to see or interact with you nearly as much. And if I were in a different state in life, I could see many of you becoming those life long friends.  The reason I bring this up now is not a sorrowful one; I’m not asking that you cry with me (unless you’re Mary Lou…then bring on the tears!) I point that out to say thank you and to commend you. You are wonderful in so many ways, you are loving, and you are loved.

I decided a couple years ago that I wanted to have some artistic depiction of each parish I ever serve at in my priesthood, to take with me wherever I go. So I have had 4 wooden plaques over my desk for the last year, one depicting each of the parishes in our family, as well as an image of St. Joseph holding the child Jesus. I intend to place these somewhere in prominence in my new parishes so that whenever I look at them, I will be reminded of you and will be praying for you. I think that is the best goodbye I can give you: the promise of my prayers, my offerings of the Most Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and my continued love and friendship. I truly do pray that our paths may cross again throughout this lifetime. But I pray most especially that all of us may be reunited for eternity in heaven, where there are no more goodbyes, no more tears, but only union with each other and perfect peace and joy. May God bless you abundantly; you certainly have blessed me abundantly.  

Please pray for me.

Fr. Aaron Hess