D's Notebook

Tag: church

The Weekend That Was

April 30, 2013 /

We had a lovely, leisurely Monday, so I still need to catch you up from our busy weekend.

The highlight was M.’s First Communion. Like I’m guessing about 95% of her classmates, I don’t think the religious ramifications of the event registered with her completely. She was far more concerned with her dress, veil, tiara, and first pair of heels than getting closer to Jesus. So much for those months of preparation, I guess.

She could not have been more excited about her shoes. When we first got them a month ago, she would wear them around the house when we let her. It was still cold, so the sweatpants with white socks and white heels thing was a most excellent look.

It was a fine event. Her communion class was rather large, so it was split into two sessions. They still managed to just about fill the church for her group. There was lots of giggling and shrieking as the girls saw each other’s dresses. Meanwhile the boys all fidgeted in their suits and sports jackets. That doesn’t really change as we get older, does it?

M. got a couple necklaces from family and friends, and we gave her a pair of my mom’s (real!) diamond and gold earrings which she thought was pretty cool. She also got a carved angel she loves from our neighbors. She kept taking it out of its box then putting it back in. After about 30 minutes of that I heard her gasp and yell, “Dad! Look at this!” She handed the box to me and it was done by an artist in Kansas City.

Speaking of Kansas City (kind of), we asked her what she wanted for lunch after church and she requested pulled pork from the barbecue place that is near her school. That’s my girl!

Saturday night I took the girls over to our friends the H’s house so the girls could play while the dads hung out and drank beer. I heard Ella, who is a year older than M., quizzing her at one point. “So, tell me, what exactly is First Communion? We’re not Catholic, we’re Christian, so we don’t do Communion.” I had to laugh, not only at the way she phrased the question, but how M. couldn’t really explain the significance of event.

Both girls had their best soccer games of the year Sunday. C. scored a goal, her second of the year, but the first in which she controlled the ball through traffic and forced her way to the goal.

And M. spent her turns on the field mostly on defense or in goal, but did a great job running to the ball instead of away from it and clearing it safely most of the time. In fact, there was a girl on the other team who didn’t look like much1 but was incredible. She whistled a shot in from about 20 yards out, could take control of the ball and keep it in traffic while moving faster than the defenders, and could change direction at will. She scored three goals in about five minutes at one stretch. When M. was on her in the fourth quarter, though, homegirl couldn’t get a shot off.

But my favorite part about it was M.’s demeanor after the game. We were praising her effusively, telling her it was her best game ever and how proud of her we were. She just shrugged her shoulders and acted like it was no big deal. Perhaps we’ve turned a corner with her and she will no longer be a shrinking violet on the field.

Finally, the referees are all high school kids. One of them is the son of good friends of ours.2 He’s a great, mature kid who is completely comfortable around adults and fantastic with kids. He’s been ref for M.’s games twice and I always give him the Caddyshack “Hey, let’s keep it fair out there!” line before the game.

Anyway, a week ago we offered him a ride home after the game so his parents wouldn’t have to drive out and pick him up. At first he accepted, but as we were gathering our chairs and bags and snacks up to leave, he came over and said thanks but he would get home on his own. Then we noticed a very cute girl making googly eyes at him. Soon they were walking across the fields arm-in-arm. Nicely done!

ↁ

  1. She was short and kind of stocky, although not fat, and had glasses on. ↩
  2. The mom is one of S.’s best friends from high school, the dad officiated at our wedding in Indianapolis, and they are L.’s godparents. They were also our friends who were on spring break at the same time as us. ↩

Il Papa

March 14, 2013 /

Those Catholics know how to do timing. I was sitting in the parking lot at St. P’s Wednesday, waiting for dismissal, when suddenly the skies opened up and what had been light flurries turned into thick, white flakes that cut visibility and quickly covered windshields. It only lasted a minute or so, but as those big flakes fell, I couldn’t help but think that they looked like white smoke blowing across the parking lot. A little like the white smoke that was blowing in Vatican City at roughly the same time.

Get it?!?!

As this was happening, I was checking Twitter and saw that the new pope was about to be announced. When the kids were let out, C. came out oblivious to the news. But M. came out moments later and ran to me, yelling, “There’s a new pope! But we don’t know who he is yet! It’s 8:00 in Rome!”

She was full of facts.

When we got to the van I asked if they had talked about how the new pope was picked. She said no, so I did my best to share what I knew of the process. We talked it through a few times until she finally let out a gasp and shared the following realization in an all CAPS voice without any space between words. I’ll tone it down for your comprehension.

“OH! So it’s like a secret vote, but it’s just the cardinals, right, and it’s like they are voting for the president, only it’s the pope! I get it!”

Gist acquired.

When we got home, I was surprised that all three girls sat quietly in front of MSNBC as we watched part of the Pope’s address. Considering that none of it was in English, they remained interested for quite a while. Although it could have just been the time difference. For some reason they were amazed by that.

Anyway, my contribution to my daughters’ spiritual lives is checked off for another quarter!

ↁ

That Old Time Gospel

November 29, 2012 /

M. took another step in her religious life last night when she had her First Reconciliation. I’m told this is a big deal if you’re Catholic.

In the van after school yesterday, C. asked her what it was that she would be doing later in the evening. As best as I can remember it, here is M.’s response:

Well, later, next spring, there’s this big thing called First Communion. And it’s about getting closer to Jesus or whatever. But you get to dress up in really fancy clothes for it! Some people even wear veils! I’m so excited for it! But First Reconciliation is something you have to do before you can do that. Everyone lines up, and we take turns talking to someone, telling them all the things we’ve done wrong. Well, not all of them. It’s ok to forget some of them. But just the big ones, I guess.

I’m pretty sure C. got distracted by the fancy clothes part and stopped listening after that. And I was quietly laughing at M.’s understanding of the high points of Catholic second grade.

I realized, while she was explaining the process, that this is a whole part of her life I’m never going to be able to understand or relate to.1 There are going to be plenty of these moments, to be sure. She’s a girl. She’s growing up 33 years after me. I will never be able to relate to all of her experiences. But as I was raised a heathen, and have chosen to continue my heathen ways into adulthood, I really have no common ground with her when it comes to her Catholicism.

When she asks me questions about it, I have no answers and can only say, “Ask your Mom/Grandfather/Aunts/Teacher.” When she’s sharing the insider details of her various religious education sessions with C., I have no idea what she’s talking about.

Like I said, there are going to be plenty of moments like this as the girls grow up. But this is the first, concrete moment when I feel one of my daughters going off in a direction that I can’t really help her with. Sure, I can support her and do my best to share what little knowledge I have on the subject. I did a fine job helping her learn the Ten Commandments last month, for example. But it’s a path that if she needs a guide, it will be someone other than me.

ↁ

  1. Sure, I could dive into the faith myself. But I’m pretty comfortable in my agnostic ways and don’t plan on joining any church any time soon. Pray for me, friends. ↩

Toeing The Line

March 5, 2012 /

M. gave up something big for Lent this year: playing the Wii. She had already lost access to it for a week because of a controller-related incident, but I give her credit for selecting something like that as her sacrifice.

Of course, by this weekend she was already saying she wanted to reclaim the Wii and exchange something else for it. Since we operate a very strict Catholic household, an arrangement was made. No one tell the Pope.

Speaking of all that, on Ash Wednesday I quizzed M. after school about her experience at Mass that morning. After telling me about it, she asked, “Why didn’t you get ashes on your forehead again?”

“Because I’m not Catholic.”

“What are you, Jewish?”

Nice that she already sees the world in binary terms.

We hauled the whole family to Mass Saturday night as it was the Mass at which all the scouts at M.’s school are honored. She was selected to help greet people, pass the collection baskets, and hand out bulletins afterwards, so she thought she was a pretty big deal.

She came and sat with us for a few minutes before Communion was presented. Sometimes I’ll kneel during the kneeling parts1, sometimes I don’t. Kind of depends on where we’re sitting and if there are people behind us. We were in a good spot Saturday, so I remained in my seat. M. look at me and said, “You don’t kneel because you’re too tall, right?” I have a feeling this whole My Father Has Different Beliefs Than I’m Being Raised With is going to be confusing/entertaining for a long, long time.

ↁ

  1. There’s probably a proper term for those parts of Mass, but I never learned them in my Heathen home. ↩

Unspoken Perils Of Catholic School

April 21, 2009 /

The preschool at our church is in a building separate from the main church built specifically to house the kids. The class for two year olds, however, is in the main church. So every Monday, when it’s C.’s turn to go to class, we drop off M., circle around to the church, and I walk her inside.

Yesterday we walked into the church and C. was her normal chipper self, jumping and cheering in anticipation of seeing her teachers and friends. Thank goodness she was distracted. We turned the corner to head to her room and parked in the sitting area next to the hallway was an open casket that was, err, occupied. I guess that’s what the hearse out front was for.

I hustled C. down the hall before she noticed and started asking questions. I was thankful she’s way too short to have been able to see inside. Then the questions would have been very interesting.

I’m assuming they don’t run into this problem at Kindercare.

Scary Night, Peaceful Night

November 1, 2007 /

M. was very excited for Halloween. We got the girls’ costumes about a month ago, and anytime we mentioned Halloween, M. would shout, “I’m going to be a GOOD witch!” Clarifying the good part was very important. She was literally shaking with anticipation last night, when we finally put the costume on and prepared to hit the streets. When other kids would come to the door, she would try to help give them candy, but would get a little too wound up and would just shout, “Happy Halloween! Take two pieces!” Then she would stand in the way of the door still quivering as she watched the kids walk away.
Our little fairy, C., wasn’t much more help. She stood in the doorway and stared at the kids, too. I don’t think she understood why all these kids were coming to our door and taking our candy. Each time she saw the candy bowl, she smacked her lips and said, “Mmmmmm!” We bought a scary witch that shrieks out various saying when you approach it to hang on the front door. When I leaned in to move the girls, that set the witch off, which they loved but always scared the kids who were walking away. </p><p style=”font-family:Helvetica Neue;”>Eventually we made our rounds through the neighborhood. Coolest treats were the Halloween colored Play Dough one family was handing out to all the little kids. The girls loved that. When we got home and let the girls have a Tootsie Roll pop each, it became a big game to keep them from chasing each other while they still had the suckers in their mouths. Pretty much everything in their paths got covered with sticky slobber, but they seemed to have fun.

M. got to double her fun today at pre-school. Since it is All Saints Day, the kids were supposed to dress as the saint they are named after. As far as we know, there is no Saint M., so we picked Saint Margaret since it’s kind of close and one of her aunt’s has that as a middle name. The kids were supposed to know a few things about their saint to share with the class. We’ve been practicing all week, “I’m Saint Margaret, Queen of Scotland. I feed the poor.” I was at Gymboree with C., but S. reported that M. did pretty good. She had to go first, and perhaps was intimidated by all the parents that were in the chapel. She got through the Saint Margaret and Queen of Scotland part fine. But, she left out the feeding the poor part. Her teacher asked her, “Do you feed the poor?” and M. responded, “Yeah!” “Can you say it?” “Yeah!” Oh well, they got the point. And other than a few kids who clearly practiced for a month, S. said most of the other kids were about as smooth in their efforts.
Happy Halloween and All Saints Day! And to my Mexican friends, Feliz Dia de los Muertos.

Archives

© 2024 D's Notebook

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑