“When I show up to church late, everyone stares and glares. When I show up to a meeting late, everyone stands and applauds — because they know I almost didn’t make it.”

The two-line story took my breath away: a testimony from an alcoholic in recovery who had found a warmer welcome in Alcoholics Anonymous meetings in church basements than in the sanctuaries upstairs.

For several years, I’ve been noticing the ones who come late. Growing up, my family of seven was often scooting into the pew after Mass started, so I’ve long had compassion for how hard it can be to get out the door and into church on Sunday mornings.

But families of young children aren’t the only ones. Visitors who are new to the parish, people with mobility challenges, parishioners without reliable transportation, teenagers slipping into the back pew — at nearly every Mass, I see someone show up late. I’ve decided to start praying for the late ones in a special way, because like the alcoholic hesitating at the door of their meeting, they almost might not have made it. And how much worse it would be to miss the banquet of the Eucharist!

I once heard an exercise instructor remark as she kept the gym door open for a few minutes longer, “I always figure the person who’s latest is the person who needs it most.” What a generous response to human nature — and a gracious acknowledgment that on hard days, getting anywhere on time can feel even harder.

If we pride ourselves on being punctual (since timeliness is understood and valued differently in different cultures), we might struggle with tardiness. In the parable of the workers in the vineyard, Jesus makes the prompt and diligent among us squirm. At the end of the day, every worker is given the same wages, even the ones who showed up late and worked the least (Mt 20:1-16).

How do we respond to this parable today, as Catholics trying to live out our faith? Do we grumble about others, bitter that God is merciful? Or do we give thanks, knowing that we are in need of mercy and forgiveness in turn?

We can’t always know someone else’s story, what caused them to be late that morning, or how they almost didn’t come to church this Sunday. Thanks be to God who reminds us that in the kingdom of God, the first shall be last and the last shall be first.

Lent begins each year with the reminder that we are not too late. The first reading every Ash Wednesday comes from the Book of Joel: “Even now, says the Lord, return to me with your whole heart” (Jl 2:12).

Even now, when we are sinful and wrapped up in our own ways, when the world is dark and evil forces are afoot, God beckons us back, to repent and return to the way of truth and love. It is never too late to come home.

If you haven’t yet taken up a Lenten practice, you are not too late. You might even decide to pray for those who show up late to Mass, to soften your heart to see them as Christ sees them. After all, if we don’t welcome others as Christ, why do we expect they would ever come back again — or try to be on time if they did?

It’s never too late to turn back to God, never too late to come to church, never too late to widen your heart. “Even now, says the Lord, return to me.” Even now, you are not too late.

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Laura Kelly Fanucci is an author, speaker and founder of Mothering Spirit, an online gathering place on parenting and spirituality.