As is the policy of our congregation, the priests move from one parish to another. On this occasion I handed over the key of the Tabernacle to Fr Zé, who would be taking over as pastor the five mission stations of Osizweni.
{mosimage}To show my appreciation for everything that my people tried to say and to express during eight years of working together, I went on to the stage to join the Zulu dancers with great joy, zeal, energy and enthusiasm. I firstly lifted my left leg, brought it down with a bang, and then lifted my right leg. Unfortunately I brought it down with more power than before, causing a big pain; it felt as if a nail penetrated my foot and caused me to feel the pain all over my body. I did not want to mention anything to those around and went on celebrating until it was time to go home. That night I slept fairly well, having been treated and sedated by the doctor.
Over the next weeks and even during my time in Tanzania, my mind would go back to the joyful occasion and I once again entered the spirit of the singing and dancing congregation. The Mass was celebrated at the church of Mary Immaculate Queen where the five communities of the mission gathered to say farewell and welcome. The hymns of the choir and the faces of the people in the congregation were cheerfully coming back to my heart and mind. I recalled the electrifying and joyful atmosphere when I climbed on to the stage and became one with the people I was leaving behind. But, the painful heel would soon bring me back to the present.
I would often dream of that day: the ladies in traditional dresses, the youth in their uniform: Youth for Christ; the sodalities: The Sacred Heart, St Anne, Children of Mary, drum mignonettes and all the leaders with their bands; the altar servers with their St Tarcisius uniforms, and the dear grandmothers – the gogos – whose smiles gave me deep feelings of joy and who I know I will miss very much. But once again my dreams would be interrupted by the painful heel making me realize that I have to get up and go with the new tasks expected of me.
At times I think over my sermon of that day: “We have run a long way together”! The slogans: “Masakane noKristo!” (Let us build together with Christ). Christ is the cement holding our community together. “Community serving humanity” and all the Lumko programmes – “The sodalities are not above the church” – “The youth: the life of the church” The … “mamma mia, welcome home” (i.e. the welcoming of the children of the creches) … but my heel is always there to break into my thoughts. My heel even prevented me from shedding a few tears thinking of the moment when, with a hug, I handed the key over to Fr Zé.
In conclusion I can firmly say, “blessed be my heel” as although I have felt much pain, I am able to understand those who suffer either physical or mental pain. This pain has been a strong medicine to help me to overcome my sadness at having to say farewell to my dearest congregation. I assure the children, the youth, the mothers and the fathers of Osizweni that they will remain in my heart until death. I will never forget what we did together while in the mission.
Let us give thanks to our heavenly Father for his love. Jesus is the only leader in our pastoral service and may he protect our lives as he did for St Tarcisius. May Our Lady, the Consolata – uMduduzi wethu – who has been our Mother yesterday, may also be our Mother for all time.
I hope this true story and my experience will help our brothers in the priesthood and others who have to move from one parish or place to another. Courage, brothers! Be confident.
The good Lord operates through us in many different ways. We are very precious in his hands.
