One of our members died a few years back, another gave notice, while a third has left the Priesthood. We meet for a day and an overnight every month. Twice each year this is extended to two nights. Our activity is dubbed “active recreation” and we fulfil this description by taking a long walk in the cool of the afternoon. Our other activities are purely social and we socialise very well. I happen to be the eldest of the group at seventy six years while the others range in from late forty to early seventy. Support group is a lot of fun, a lot of camaraderie, a heap of sharing and a relaxing renewal. Support groups were introduced in the Brisbane Archdiocese in the early eighties by Joe McGeehan who was our “ministry to priests” man.
Another area of support happens along four times a year when retired priests are invited to a couple of hours of relaxation together. Three of these occasions take the form of a Mass followed by lunch. The fourth is the Archbishop’s call and takes the form of morning tea at his place just before Christmas. And yes there are gifts and much ho ho.
In my retirement there are many areas of support offered me. Local active priests visit, invite, share and generally keep me involved. My local parish priest overnighted three nights when I was recently discharged from hospital. Now that’s what I call support of a very high order. Neighbours give me plenty of company and provide things like “chat”, fruit (eg papaws, passionfruit, oranges, limes), curiosity, lawn mowing, handy hints re laundry and cooking.
And most important of all support is the help given by a lady friend who is very computer wise and who shares her competence in correcting and directing my lack of it.
I meet many people during my morning/afternoon walks to the beach. A recent acquaintance tells me he is a Victorian and he and wife have come north to care for grandchildren while their parents nick off for a holiday. He is politely inquisitive and soon discovers that I am Roman Catholic clergy, retired. He wonders if I had much to do with other Faiths during my active apostolate. Yes indeed! I was a close friend of the local Lutheran minister during my Maroochydore years. This Lutheran pastor and I often walked the beach together in the early morning. We discussed many topics especially the things that annoyed us at monthly Fraternal Meetings. With wife and family he went back to hometown, Adelaide, to celebrate his silver jubilee of ordination.
There he was struck by a car and lingered in hospital. When discharged they had not enough money to fly back to Maroochydore. Hearing of this plight the Catholic parish offered to pay their fare home. As I recall the Lutherans were most grateful but managed to pay the fares themselves. For a time all was well but the Pastor suffered a relapse. He died in the Nambour hospital and was buried from the small Lutheran church. Again the Catholics offered Stella Maris church for the funeral, but the Lutheran community naturally preferred to use their own church. I recall that a couple of us attended his funeral service. However there was no room in the church so we sat on chairs arranged in the nearby closed-off street. I visit his grave in Buderim cemetery where my parents are buried too. So my friend on the beach was impressed and expressed his intention of meeting up with me again. Regrettably our paths never crossed again.
Life is like that! So many of my beach walk acquaintances seem to come and go. One of these is a great character with a mixed breed dog of very agreeable nature. I often find him sitting outside the convenience store reading his paper. Dog gets excited and so does Jim. He manages to scrape up Catholic connections and reckons we are a goodly bunch. His first wife had a cleaning job at Nudgee Christian Brothers College. She loved to place fresh flowers around the statue of St. Joseph which stands in the front drive. Another friend who walks his Jack Russell tells me he is Catholic but only goes to church at Christmas. He was reared in an orphanage in Sydney and can speak only well about the upbringing he got at the hands of the Brothers. This chap likes to introduce me to his mates but always by saying “Harry is of the Church, you know.” Well I am very proud to be of the Church you know and that’s one reason why I write these articles for you.
My next door neighbour has a (usually) friendly Staffi named Isabel. She is a most affectionate dog and loves to bale me up at the fence for a lick and a pat. Returning home from a walk I spotted Isabel getting a bath in the mobile doggie wash, so naturally, I went over to give a pat. No sireee! She snapped at me in a most unfriendly manner which simply shows that we males should not interrupt ladies when they are bathing.
Support after all can only go so far!
Harry Bliss
