There were those who did not think
I was wonderful or -- let me be
completely candid -- even competent.
Skeptical at the first, they soon
enough had their suspicions confirmed.
I was, they told themselves, not
at all what they were looking for
in a man of the cloth. My failings
were obvious -- too young, hesitant,
lacking in gravitas, insufficiently
appreciative of their standing,
enthusiastic about the wrong things.
On top of that, my orthodoxy was,
at the very least, questionable.
Besides which, my wife dressed --
how should they put it -- in a manner
not suitable to her station. In
short, they disapproved. I sensed
it, felt it in their averted glances,
knew it not by what they
said as what they didn't say.
I learned what is hard to learn --
that not everyone will love you
the way your mother did. Not even
good people who sit and listen
to you every week, who greet you
at the door and shake your hand.
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