My dearest year of service,
I was so afraid of what you would bring me. I couldn’t
believe I was moving myself halfway across the country where my
neighbor’s-son’s-best friend’s-aunt who I only know by association is the one
person I could call if I had a real emergency. I remember stepping off the
airplane in Boston completely terrified, petrified even, willing my feet
forward and praying my heartbeat would slow down before it exploded.
Little did I know you’d be one of the best things that ever
happened, for you would somehow find a way to squeeze what seems like a
lifetime of lessons into 11 short months. Although you weren’t what I expected,
you’ve found a way to give me more than what I asked for.
To start, you’ve made Brockton a place I proudly call myself
local. I may not know the street names or have eaten at all of the restaurants,
but I can tell you how encouraging the Tuesday morning yoga teacher at the Y
is, how the crossing guard at Pleasant and Pearl takes his coffee, or how
cheerfully the morning barista responds to drive-thru orders at our go-to
Dunkin’. Brockton may be a wounded city, treated like a depreciated old house,
but you’ve shown me beauty amidst the hurt. You’ve shown me that goodness,
safety and comfort are in the most unlikely places.
Which brings me to 42 Wendell Ave. Our beautiful,
undeserving home that breathes and moves with us each day. Walking across the
threshold of the old rectory, the 10 of us were broken and bent, lost
directionally, unsure where our lives would lead. The house has seen our
transformation, absorbed each of our tears, and celebrated our triumphs. Every
night the sun set, no matter what happened outside the safe walls of the
Brockton House that day, we knew that the floorboards would still creak under
our weight, the bottom of the oven would be coated with dinner scraps that
slipped away, my windows and window frames would always leak if it rained, the
backdoor would never take the passcode the first two times, and it would always
be 10 degrees colder on the first floor than any other. 42 Wendell gave each of
us comfort and refuge in a new place. It helped each of us grow, transition and
prepared us for what’s to come.
And then there’s my community. The strong unit of powerful women
who are deeply passionate, hysterical and so giving. Each one of their
beautiful souls have brought me lessons that have influenced the way I will
live the rest of my life.
By giving me community, you’ve shown me something so unique.
Something that deeply connects strangers, people I probably never would have
crossed paths with otherwise. Because it’s more than co-habitating and
more than being roommates. Community is staying up late to keep company with
whoever is prepping for dinner and getting up too early to workout. It’s
finding Barbie in the Tupperware closet, putting too many veggie broth cubes in
the soup, the LaLaLand soundtrack, finishing each other’s sentences, and never
getting the kitchen floor clean. Community is painful tears and self-reflection
on areas you’d rather keep hidden in a drawer. It’s figuring out how to adult
by day and puzzling like a 7 year old by night. It’s snuggly sweater candles,
being the first customers at Dunkin’, and taking whimsical trips in Gravin. It
means washing the dishes three nights in a row because everyone else is
exhausted, sick or needs some down time. It’s too many inside jokes that are
propelled longer than they should be. It’s devastatingly realizing you can’t
fix the world with just one year of service and the people around you are the
only ones who understand your pain. It’s rephrasing and rethinking, saying no
to straws and plastic bags, battling mice, and putting the car in reverse for
one dollar Frosty’s. It’s pushing yourself until you have no energy left.
Community is hard conversations and lots of mistakes. But it’s also laughter
and bottle-up moments you want to take out on a really bad day. It is family,
friendship and love. Community is having 8 other people by your side while you
together, in solidarity, find parts of yourselves by losing yourselves in the
service of others.
And finally, I can’t thank you enough for giving me Holy
Cross Family Ministries. It’s truly one of the most joyful, prayerful and
welcoming places I’ve ever conveniently found myself in. Often my work was the
only thing that got me through the tough valleys, and because of that I think I
was even more devoted to the mission. I still can’t believe every day I am
working to help families around the world pray and grow together in peace. With
this I quickly learned that both my professional life and faith could intersect
and help the other flourish … and that’s when I realized God needs my life
devoted to work in the Church. In such a short period of time I have developed
hard work skills while I’ve traveled deep into parts of my spirituality I
didn’t know existed. Holy Cross Family Ministries has given me professional and
spiritual mentors, friends, my adopted mother Anne, and the opportunity to
continue Father Peyton’s great work in the first steps of my career. All of
this was more than I could have ever asked for.
So yeah, it’s been quite the adventure, hasn’t it? You’ve
changed my life and although my heart already hurts for leaving my community
and moving out of our beautiful home, I will carry you with me wherever I go. For these
are the moments you’ve given me that changed my heart and I will always be
grateful.
Mel Fitz
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