The Five of Clubbs: Hasta luego

I can remember, as a teenager, when my friends and I would try to trace our conversation back to how it began. Now that I am older, I find myself mentally doing that with relationships. How did I first meet this person? Was it like "When Harry Met Sally," where you meet someone several times before the friendship really "takes?" One of my best friends (and lunchtime walking partner) and I experienced that situation. Was it through a series of pretty special circumstances?

Brooke Clubbs

My husband recently took our oldest daughter to Jefferson City, Missouri. As they walked through the Carnahan Garden, he told her if it wasn't for Mel Carnahan, mommy and daddy would not have met. True, the Governors Scholarships brought us to Southeast Missouri State University. But if Bob hadn't switched majors from political science to speech and theater education, would we have found ourselves together in the lobby of the Rose Theatre?

Our Christmas card address book, our friends list on Facebook -- all bear witness to people who help make us who we are, and the extraordinary meetings and partings in our lives.

If my mom wasn't a speech pathologist who offered her services to the associate pastors who arrive at St. Vincent de Paul Parish from all over the world, I wouldn't be adding Father Jose to my address book today.

In April 2013, not long after Mom had undergone a pretty involved spinal fusion surgery, our pastor, Father Dave, called to ask if she could help the new associate with accent reduction. The folks at the early-morning weekday mass were having trouble understanding the priest from Colombia. At first, Mom didn't really want to. She was still in a back brace and not feeling her best. But off she drove to the rectory. As she sat down with Father Jose that day, how could she have known it was about to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship?

When my father passed away just three years after my parents moved down here from our hometown of Kankakee, Illinois, I worried about my mom for lots of reasons. Bob, the kids and I could relieve a lot of the worries: helping her take out the garbage on Thursday, changing the batteries in her clocks and smoke detectors, shoveling her driveway. But I knew she needed another grown-up to be friends with -- someone she wasn't related to. And when you are retired in a town where you haven't lived all your life, it can be hard to go out and find a new buddy. Could there be a better example of God's perfect timing -- or his sense of humor -- than to provide a Colombian priest?

Mom and Father Jose enjoyed working on his homilies together and discussing theology. His baritone laugh would fill the room when mom tried to correct his grammar on a certain passage, and he would tell her, "Susanne, I took that directly from scripture!" Oftentimes their sessions would end with an exploration of American vs. Colombian idioms. So, he learned what "Keeping up with the Joneses" meant, and mom learned the equivalent: "Tirar la casa por la ventana." ("Throw the house out the window.")

Soon, their sessions combined going out for lunch. My son, Eli, loved to go along. When he made a list of his friends for a school project, Father Jose was on it. We started going to Spanish mass and all tried to learn Spanish. I studied French in high school, and a lot of it, surprisingly, came back to me as I struggled to respond to Padre's questions en Español. He would never let me forget the times I answered en Français instead! He shared Thanksgiving and Easter meals at my house. He came over for the traditional Dec. 26 "White Christmas" viewing at my mom's.

But it wasn't long before he was needed elsewhere. The bishop reassigned him as associate pastor at St. Ann parish in Carthage, Missouri, and St. Peter the Apostle parish in Joplin, Missouri. (Coincidentally, he will be working with one of my favorite priests from my college years and young adulthood, Father J. Friedel!)

I attended Father Jose's last Mass yesterday and today, and added his new address to my book. We're making plans to visit and feeling grateful for Facebook and text messaging. The dots of our relationship will now be connected across the state.

I'm trying not to worry about Mom finding a friend. I could have never guessed how Father Jose would be provided. I'm also remembering that with this, like all serendipitous relationships, there isn't goodbye. Just hasta luego (see you later).

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About Brooke

Brooke Clubbs teaches at Southeast and lives in Jackson with her husband, three kids, two dogs and 570 Facebook friends. She is still trying to learn Spanish poco a poco (little by little).