He’s taking a position in north Philadelphia. I don’t know what he’ll be doing. We found out about this in a letter that arrived on Saturday (Jan. 30), and he announced it after service the following day. His last day will be February 28.
So abrupt. Only a month. Have to begin detaching from the pastor-parishoner relationship. Resignation and retirement are very different. When RFP retired, he gave us five months notice; we had four months to get used to the idea, and the last month to accomplish the detachment.
Last Sunday, I apologized to him for every hostile thing I ever said or wrote to him, for all the times the symptoms of my illness made things difficult for him, and for all the times I made his job or life harder than they had to be. He thanked me for challenging him and getting him to look at things from perspectives he had not considered before. He told me to “keep the next guy or gal on their toes”; then he hugged me.
This isn’t really surprising. When he leaves, Quinn will have been with us for a little more than five and a half years. According to his resume, which we were given when he came, the longest he ever stayed anywhere was seven years and five years is his average length of stay.
As I said, it was just so abrupt. When I read the letter, I felt like I’d been shot through the heart. (Fortunately I was on the phone with a friend when I read it.) After that, I just felt stunned, numb. I don’t know what I feel now.
Had the last healing service tonight over which he will preside. Didn’t get to talk to him because I was telling another friend about my cats. Had them added to the prayers for healing.
Four more Sundays, and he’s gone. I was not ready for this.