A First

You know you live in a small town when the very first time you attend services at a church, you are asked to do a reading. Mackinac Island is a very small town. With only 500 of us here year-round, you pretty much know everybody - really well. It dawned on me the other day that I've lived here for nearly 20 years, I've been friends with the local Episcopal priest all that time, but I've never attended services at the island's Trinity Church.

I decided to go because a dear friend of mine from Philadelphia, who happens to be an Episcopal priest, was giving the Mass that day. (If I got that wrong, please forgive me. I'm not sure what which verb is correct - giving? leading? celebrating?)

photo via

Trinity is a lovely little church, just up a from Market Street, near the bottom Fort Hill. Although services began in the 1830s, the parish wasn't organized until 1873. The members met in the fort and the Court House until the building was finished in 1882. I love that a number of the soldiers from Fort Mackinac provided some of the labor needed to construct the church.

Mass was lovely. All the more special because of my connection with Father R. I'm still not use to referring to him that way. It's been an adjustment for me, learning to see him as a priest. Sure, he is still my friend - the same friend I've had for going on 20 years now, but he's a priest. I first met him back when he was 18 or 19 - in his "pre-priest" days. I guess I just never thought about "priest" and "friend" being the same person. Priests weren't friends - they were up there on the altar - separate from the rest of us. Unknowingly he's helped me learn that priests are people too - just like teachers. R is a wonderful man, and I think the priesthood suits him. Now I know just how my students use to feel when they would see me at Meijer, stare at me with a look of shock on their faces and say, "Teachers shop? I thought you lived at school."