Pat Karpen came to Holy Cross through our Come and See invitational evangelism campaign last spring. She came, saw, stayed and became an active member of the congregation. Among her gifts, Pat brings a career as a professional actor in New York City and as a teacher at John Stark High School and, now, at St. John’s School in Concord. Her Ministry Minute reflects Pat’s gifts of imagination and expression.
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I wasn’t looking for fellowship. I wasn’t looking for warmth. I wasn’t looking for inclusion or welcome. I wasn’t looking for friendship. I wasn’t looking for a new path or a new destination.   I was looking for a new car.
I had pretty much been driving my car all my life. It had always given me some problems. Quite frankly, there were a few occasions when I parked the car and just walked the path. Lately, though, it was starting to break down for me an awful lot. I was having some real difficulty reconciling some of the discrepancies I was finding in the manuals. I really wasn’t crazy about the mechanics. It especially bothered me when they would all gather together and tell me that most of my problems with my car were probably due to the fact that I was, well, after all, just a woman driver.
I had become so frustrated that annoyance had started to spill over into anger and downright rage. So much so, that most of the time I wasn’t focused on the path or the destination at all. All I could do was scream at my vehicle and weep and rage and mourn. I had stopped marveling at the scenery along the path. I could hardly even see the path.
Then Heidi asked me to come and see. I did. It was not an easy decision for me. I’d been in that same car for an awful long time. But I kept coming back. I like the feel of this car. I like how it takes the corners. I’m reading some manuals. I’m kicking the tires. I like the mechanic. I like his intelligence and his kindness. But there’s more.
To end as I began: I wasn’t looking for fellowship. I wasn’t looking for warmth. I wasn’t looking for inclusion or welcome. I wasn’t looking for friendship. Then I met you all. For whatever reason the particular tap dance that my DNA has always done has always kept me on the periphery of people. Most days I’m ok with that. Most days it doesn’t bother me. Most days. Then I met you all.
Your welcome has been palpable. Some of you have invited me into your homes. Some of you have even invited me back again. It’s always extremely difficult for me to show up; to come in from out of the rain, but your warmth has been enticing. Since I met you all, I’ve had the strangest feeling that if ever I were to be faced with an emergency…say Weare has lost power in an ice storm and because my sump pump is inoperative my basement is filling with water…that if I called any of you up in the middle of the night that you would leave your homes and come and try to help me. I don’t have the words to explain how that feeling has affected me. It is a strange and overwhelming moment in my life as a periphery person.
I am in awe of this small, beautiful holy place that houses your huge hearts and minds. Since I met you I am so…something…eased, happy, inspired…I don’t know…to be here and I must say thank you.