The sun fools us into thinking,
That it’s easy to start anew,
But the birds sing out the hardship;
The grass sheds its tears in the dew.
And so it is with New Men,
Who hide their fears behind smiles,
Standing out in starched shirts and ties,
As they process down new aisles.
I can’t say the prayers in Latin.
I bow a step behind the rest.
My fingers fumble through pages,
Trying to appear calm at best.
I felt lost in this world of theirs.
My nice comfort zone had been shook.
I felt in way over my head,
When one Old Man reached for my book.
He walked me through all the sections,
And showed what the ribbons were for.
Another explained the schedule.
Yet another gave me a tour.
One told me to just keep going,
It will all click for me some day.
A deacon gave me some advice,
Have fun, but remember to pray.
Another Old Man asked my thoughts,
On what they could have done better.
And one Old Man invited me,
To come blog and write this letter.
I hope that it lets you all know,
How easy you’ve made it for us,
To leave the comforts of our homes,
And join you in a new chorus.
So on behalf of all New Men,
I say thank you to all you Old.
You are the heart of Saint Charles,
And in you is the story told.