Argh.

[rivka]

I just made my calls for the church survey and canvass. Three messages on answering machines and a very stressful conversation with an acquaintance of mine.

She's a new mother who just moved house and combined households with her partner and hasn't had the time to come to church for a couple months now. She didn't want to meet in person - not at her house, not in a public place. She didn't have time to talk on the phone now, and she didn't want to set up a time for me to call her back when she might have time to talk because she didn't know when that might be. She wanted to get me off the phone as soon as possible. She apologized for it, but didn't particularly try to hide it. Her bottom line: she loves the church, but she just can't do anything about it right now.

All of this was perfectly her right, of course, and very reasonable considering the state of her life right now. I don't blame her a bit. It is a horrible imposition to push into people's busy lives like this. And no matter what I say about wanting people's input about the future of the church, I can't fool them into thinking that it's not - at heart - about asking them for money.

I don't know how I'm going to do this with three more people.

Comments

[melebeth]

*offers a hug of support* I wish you the best on your venture. It sounds like a terribly unpleasant task. But if you're a member of the church I think you probably are from your previous post (the one on the corner of Charles and something in Mount Vernon that always has the pride flag out and where my choral group once sang) it's a beacon and worth fighting for. Even if the fighting is icky and unpleasant. Which asking for money always is.

[rivka.livejournal.com]

That's the one, and it is a great place. Were you with the New Wave singers?

[melebeth]

Canticle Singers. They sang there once a few christmases ago - when I had bronchitis and couldn't make a peep. At least I think they sang there - they may have been singing outside for a tree lighting... not being able to sing that night is what dominates my memory rather than my landmarks.