A Rock and a Hard Place

Sometimes, without even trying, I find myself between a rock and a hard place. This is one of those times, and it has nothing to do with maple syrup.

Due to reconfiguration, we moved our parish. It was with the understanding that we'd give it a year, and if we were happy -- we'd stay. It's been three. The children are happy. They sing is the choir, they enjoy the Christmas play and revel in the Pumpkin Fair and Parish Picnic, and lick their plates clean at the parish breakfasts. Due to being a shutterbug, I got involved with the Parish Activities. Satisfied all around; we're staying.

Yesterday the rocks shifted. Yesterday I found myself defending my actions, and the actions of others, for no one can pull parish social events off alone. Accusations flew of wanting to push out a longtime parishioner. That her services were no longer being appreciated. Funny thing was, that person had just called me and asked, "Could you call so and so; she's upset?" Caught is a fire storm of she said, she saids, I mentioned that all are invited; anyone can work on these events. That this little band of social rebels had gained three new members in the past month. Three more merry souls that see the usefulness of a cash bar. I got a staunch no, this isn't my parish anymore.

It's so strange, this merry group charged itself with fixing the lost sense of community, and we still seem to be fraying from the sides.