I double checked my list of weekday Mass times and locations. And I even took a minute to telephone the rectory so I could hear the recorded Mass schedule once more. Driving out along Fort Street past endless industrial buildings and empty commercial spaces I wondered more than once if perhaps this Catholic church had already closed. As I neared the location of the church the traffic of semi tractor trailers was growing thicker. Then in the near distance I saw a massive complex of a building with a sign atop proclaiming Detroit Produce Terminal. The trucks were like bees swarming in and out of a hive. Each trailer was emblazoned with the name and logo of a grocery store familiar to Detroiters. I had found where our produce comes from but would I find this church?
Not much farther I spotted All Saints church. And better yet, I spotted many people milling about the side entry of the brick church. I promptly parked and made my way over to the group of parishioners. When I informed them I was here for Mass, they looked at me quizzically and told me that Mass was not celebrated on Wednesday morning. This group of parishioners was here as volunteers for the soup kitchen in the church's social hall. Then the words of a nun I met at St. Christopher in Detroit sprang into my head, her gentle reminder that Christ has called us all to help one another in any way we can.
God gave me reminder that morning. We are here to serve one another, we are here to love one another. I stayed and helped at the soup kitchen and silently said a prayer of thanks to God.
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