Mary Waits to Meet Her Martha Again

Today’s post is by guest blogger Sandra Worsham, a retired English teacher, who had been dismissed from her parish’s music ministry because of her relationship with another woman. Her story is featured in Cornerstones: Sacred Stories of LGBTQ+ Employees in Catholic Institutions.

On July 20, 1969, the astronauts first stepped on the moon. On that same day, I married a man. I remember coming out of the bathroom on my wedding night, wearing the white negligee I had chosen especially for the occasion, and sitting down beside my husband on the edge of the bed where he was watching the man step for the first time on the surface of the moon and saying, “One small step for man; one giant leap for mankind.”

“Mary and Martha” by Paul Martin

That marriage didn’t last but five years, and I found myself alone and not knowing what to do next. After three years of searching, experimenting, and wondering where God would lead me next, I found myself in a long-term celibate relationship with a devout Catholic and teacher colleague named Teeny. We were both devoted Catholics. Teeny couldn’t sit still for very long, getting up to sweep the floor or to go outside to pull weeds or pick roses to bring inside and put in a clear glass vase in the windowsill. She got up early in the morning, being quiet not to wake me, and took the dogs to walk around the neighborhood. She held her rosary in one hand and the dog leashes in the other. 

I slept late, and when I got up, I could sit all day, reading and writing and saying a Rosary. She couldn’t sit still long enough to watch a movie. I could watch a double-feature and knit for hours.  We were like the gospel story of Martha and Mary (​​Luke 10:38-42).

When we went to Mass on Saturday nights, I played the organ and she sat up in the balcony with me, where she arranged the choir music into neat piles, straightened the hymn books so that they were all facing the same way, and picked up lint off the carpet. When the Knights of Columbus announced at Mass that she had won Woman of the Year, everybody looked up to the choir loft in the balcony to see her leaning over picking up lint off the carpet. When she heard her name called, her head popped up, and everybody laughed.

One of my favorite pictures is one of her up on a ladder, face to face with the Sacred Heart statue, cleaning Jesus’ face. Our Holy Hours in the church were spent with her wiping off the pews, and me, sitting reading, writing, and saying a Rosary. Her Rosary was always said with her on her feet. The difference between her and Martha in the gospel is that she would never have complained about me to Jesus. She did what came naturally to her and let me do the same.

Because Teeny was a good bit older than I, we always knew that I would probably be left without her one day. We considered ourselves, not gazing at one another but as gazing forward together toward Jesus. I saw myself as the one with feet of clay, and I saw her as the holier of us two. The priest even called her a saint at her funeral. She was a saint and a great example for me and others. I imagined that when she died, I would feel even closer to her because she would be part of the Church Triumphant and I would be part of the Church on earth. I felt that I would be able to talk to her then, heart to heart. 

But soon after she died, I couldn’t feel her presence anymore. Typical of her, I thought, she’s busy. She’s moved on, not looking back. She’s sweeping up the streets of gold.

At the request of our current priest, who wants someone in adoration in front of the Blessed Sacrament all day on Fridays, I have volunteered for the three-to-four slot. More and more lately, I have felt Teeny’s presence during my time in front of the Host in the Monstrance on the altar. I am remembering how amazed I was at the beginning of my journey toward the Catholic Church when I realized that the Holy Sacrament was the real Body and Blood of Jesus.

“If this is true, then why isn’t everybody in town in this church in front of the Sacrament?” I asked her. “I guess they don’t all believe it,” she said, and then she told me about how, when Jesus told the people about this Truth, some of the people grumbled and left, and how Jesus didn’t call them back.

I now look forward to my Friday Holy Hour every week. The church is quiet, and I can feel the Lord’s presence. I can also feel Teeny’s presence. I look around and I remember how we went to Mass together. I remember the sound of her voice beside me saying the responses during the Liturgy. 

And because of that wonderful teaching of the Catholic Church, the Communion of Saints, I can talk to those who have gone on ahead of me. I can picture them in my mind, gathered around Jesus and the Blessed Mother, happy and waiting for me. This Mary is looking forward to the day when she can be reunited with her Martha, in the presence of the Lord.

—Sandra Worsham, August 6, 2025