I hope God is a funny man, I'm thinking He might be. I sure hope He is. 3 weeks ago, we went to church. The original reason, if I'm being honest, is we have to figure out and work out the baptism of our little one.
In the beginning and if we are going back to when we were married- getting into a church to be married was harder than finding parking in the North End. No one would marry us- you'd think we were entering each conversation with a request to preform a sin on the alter. But not only are we both Catholic, but Chris was even President of his C.Y.O. group back in the day. We were really close to not getting married in a church- which would have suited me just fine.
Through out the whole wedding process I learned many things- including the fact that our mothers are committed fo'Catholics. I'm absolutely certain their faith is real, however their conviction, in my opinion, seems to be reserved for weddings and funerals. I don't think anyone realized how close we were to getting married by a tranny named Peaches (a fictional character I threatened to find). If I couldn't find a Peaches, then I had a realistic option of a guy I worked with that not only was ordained via the Internet but had a mean fairy get up that I'm certain would have been the talk of the wedding community. In all reality, I wouldn't have had someone dress up- or come in costume- but if the church we ended up at didn't work out I was giving up. Finding a church was the most stressful and enlightening experience that actually turned me off of the Catholic church. But like many things for our big day- it was done for others not for us. Now our wedding, to be honest, ended up being the best day ever but the road to the big day was not. I will use this opportunity to put it on the record. If L wants to get married by a cat in the dead of summer so be it. It's her day, it's her decision. I dislike cats, I dislike oppressive heat- I will take the hot smelly cat presiding over the ceremony as I melt if that is what she envisions. And smile. I hope that's not what she envisions.
That being said our mothers wouldn't have it any other way but in a church so we did what we could to keep the peace. It took months to find the church and endless stories of corrupt priests and angry sisters- but eventually we found the church we need up loving getting married in. Now the search is on again, because it turns out Jesus has zoning laws. Before L was born my mom brought up major concern about having the baby travel with out being baptised. Apparently "back in the day" babies were never to leave the house until they were secured a spot in heaven- and to get this spot the baby has to be accepted to Catholicism which means a baptism. My mom felt before the baby could leave the state, since with modern times come modern rules, she would need to be baptised.
With all that happened with L, this because difficult. Her zoning laws have quickly become a distant memory because these same zoning laws would mean no baby girl for Christmas. And no one wants that!!! Originally, we were going to have it in October, but she wasn't home yet. November was too soon after she came home, December there were scheduling complications... now we are looking at January and February.
My feeling is, she has been blessed and prayed for so much I think we can go to NY for the holidays with out the official Catholic passport. We did have to get things going, which leads me to going to a local church about 3 weeks ago. I figured by speaking with a Priest we could get the process moving along. C had to drop the au pair at a meeting, so I went in alone.
I can't explain it- but for whatever reason I came up against more emotion then I was prepared for. There I sat in a pew with L, balling like a crazy woman, talking to my sleeping baby- like a lunatic. I was in good company... the parishioners are quite the eclectic group. Just like our neighborhood- there was quite the mix. Gangsters to my left, yuppies to my right. C walked up and I warned him that I was feeling a bit weepy- so he spent the majority of the service laughing at me, who spent the majority of the service crying or laughing at myself. In thinking about it that day, I realized I would be going back the next week- even if I didn't have to to get L baptised. I don't want to be a fair-weathered Catholic- we spent weeks praying, asking others to pray- for god's sake we had people from all over the WORLD praying. I was talking to every person who has died that I ever met, even those I hadn't met but had heard about- my family, other people's family. If there was a possibility of calling in a 'favor' I was doing it. And with all of this, I hadn't sat through a mass? Forget that. That being said, I won't be apart of anything that doesn't let me be myself anymore. Church is a time for reflection- and I'm learning more and more about it. I may not end up going every week or I may not end up going to a Roman Catholic Church- but I do want to invest more into something more than waiting until the last moment.
Now C calls me Mary Magdalene, and we go every week. It's been 3 weeks in a row and while that doesn't seem like much- this is big time for anyone who knows me at all. Last week we were almost late and I was freaking out. C started running in circles screaming "Jesus is waiting Jesus is waiting!" Of course this calmed me down a bit, we got there just about on time but once again we continue to laugh and have fun through out the service. I always remembered church as boring, quiet and stifling. I always remembered having to get dressed up. All things I dislike, no wonder I didn't like church. But it turns out it doesn't have to be. Now don't you worry, I won't be trying to convert anyone- but it's nice that it's nice.
Now maybe we shouldn't laugh quite as much as we do- but like I started with, I'm hoping He has a sense of humor. I'm hoping He is laughing as we laugh when we break free from some woman who is trying to get us to come to the after mass reception (one step at a time, I say) - now it would be one thing if she merely asking- but she was manhandling me. She grabbed my shoulder and tried to physically steer me downstairs. I broke free, lied (in church... one step at a time, I say), ran for the door, laughing. Or for two weeks straight we have been singing this song that only recently we learned the real words to. We thought the last line was "As the Jew drops down." Now granted, I found the line controversial, but I think a bunch of stuff I hear in church is- and it's only been 3 weeks. Turns out the line is: as the dew drops down. We'll keep you posted on the church shenanigans that arise.