Second Holy Communion

The best Mother's Day gift came last week when my two little girls made their First Holy Communion. We were so glad that my mom was here and the girls were wearing heirloom dresses that she made for them. They looked beautiful and innocent and happy.

 Forty years ago, the same mom made my First Holy Communion dress. Apropos of the time, it was much less fancy and took much less time for her to make. She indulges me these days to tackle very difficult projects on the sewing machine. Her handiwork almost always involves my little ones.

 Today, we all got up for the early Mass and quietly and reverently went to Communion for the first time as a whole family of five, the second time for the girls, and as part of the eternal line.

Sanctified Times Two, version 2.0

The girls both made their First Reconciliation today with the same lovely priest as their brother. They asked if they could go again next Saturday. I told them any time their little hearts desire to go, I will take them. Any time.

We celebrated with a brunch at The Waffle House. Big brother, who is now an altar server, is off with his Pinewood Derby. Tonight, the girls have the annual Father/Daughter Dance and I get the traditional Mother/Son date.

Time flows steady and strong and these babies of mine are being carried away from their childhood. I try so hard to preserve it, even if momentarily, against the ever-moving current.

Sanctified

Today was a big day for Zeke. He made his First Reconciliation. He's now completed two of his possible seven Sacraments. My heart is full of peaceful joy that he has come this far. There were over 100 children making confessions today and six priests administering. The leaders wanted all the children to go first and then the adults could go. This was a good consolation for us who arrived at the last moment and were seated in the back. Zeke was near the end with Father Brian, our parish's former vicar, and I was the first adult in the same line. Father told me when I went in that my child is just delightful. So good to hear. When I came out, Zeke asked me what my penance was and his eyes got pretty big. Big people, big sins, big penances.

As a kid growing up, we would compare penances. It was sort of the thing to do as a kind of barometer of how you rated. Of course, if you had a different priest, it threw off the scale. David didn't grow up with this Sacrament and so he's very tight-lipped about what happens. He sees the confessional like high rollers see Vegas. It pleases me no end that my boy is growing in the faith and in knowledge and, hopefully, wisdom. I expect we will start doing the Saturday Confession as a family on a regular basis. I cannot count how many priests I know who said this was part of their growing up: regular Saturday Confessions with the family.

In Search of Stasis

Today was a stay-at-home-putter-around day. The cleaning lady came at 10 and I moved all the kids to the downstairs fun room to keep everyone out of her way. When she moved downstairs to clean, we moved back up. All the while, Dave was cleaning out the former garage that is now his workshop-in-progress. He bought a nice workbench, assembled it, moved some stuff and put it where he wanted it. I think spring fever is spurring the spring cleaning.

Now if it could only stay that way.

There might be a moment when all the kids' clothes are clean, or all the floors are clean, or all the toilets are clean, but it never lasts. I understand that there are some things in life that are once-for-all [baptism and confirmation spring to mind...matrimony sort of is, but it sort of isn't], but most things in life fall into the category of hygiene: that which requires regular attention. I guess I shouldn't be frustrated by it, any more than I get frustrated at brushing my teeth or combing my hair. The alternative [not having kids for whom to do laundry] is unthinkable right now. And yet I still wish that the "finished" feeling would linger just a little longer.

Unbarnacled

I made it to Confession today. I believe it's a much-overlooked Sacrament. It is good for the soul in every way. In my practice as an adult Catholic, I have found that I can go several weeks and be o.k., but if I haven't darkened the door of the confessional in a season, boy! do I feel it. That sin nature I inherited from my human nature is gravity for the soul, pulling me down to earth. To free my sanctified nature, I need to be free of those sins. Confession does just that.

A friend once told me that the incidence of mental health problems is rare for Catholics who make frequent Confessions. It's completely free [not cheap] and it's more effective than therapy. I highly recommend it.

NICU Journal - September 1, 2003 Late Afternoon

A weary day for me, post-op, and further wearied by the streams of people who came to visit. Zeke was safe at Aunt Terri's and I had no further worry of him. Two Catholic mom friends came to visit and see the girls. This entailed Dave taking them to the NICU down the hall, taking them through the scub room, washing well, and being buzzed into the unit by the staff. After their visit to the girls, they returned to my room. A. was on the edge of tears. She looked at me with one of those penetrating stares and said, "You are having them baptized, right?" It was almost not a question. I fluffed off something like, "Dr. M. didn't think they had to be baptized last night and I hadn't thought much more of it." She took my hand in hers, looked deeply into my eyes with tears welling in hers and said, "Please. Have them baptized."

After they left, I called Father Jude, who was "off" because of Labor Day. He assured me that I could have them baptized now and still have a full Mass with all the other rites at a later time. When he arrived at the NICU and after washing up and being buzzed in, he asked for a small bowl of warm water and an eye dropper. They didn't have one of those. I suggested a nasal suction bulb. They gave him a tiny blue one. He baptized my girls.

Groundhog's Day

Recently, Jonah Goldberg of National Review Online, posted a bleg [a beg on a blog] for opinions of the movie "Groundhog's Day". He is of the opinion that it is a great movie and he wanted reasons for to support that. Here's my first post of "amateur philosophizing" . I happen to agree with him and so I wrote him the following email several days ago:

Dear Jonah- I read you often and enjoy your work immensely. I throw around "cheese-eating surrender monkeys" as often as possible. I know the Simpsons coined it, but you circulated it.

I agree with you that GD is a movie for the ages. I, too, was a philosophy major. But now, you're a professional and I'm still an amateur. But here goes, anyway: I think GD grapples with "the problem of suffering" beautifully. Remember the sequence where Bill Murray notices the homeless guy? Murray tries repeatedly to change the outcome of that day [with the man dying] and no matter what he does, he cannot change the outcome. The man ultimately dies. The thing that Murray does is give comfort to the dying and not let him die alone. It is poignant and beautiful. Mother Theresa would be proud of him. Was that suffering for naught? No. Bill Murray's character learned compassion from it. He made the
same change with regard to Needlenose Ned, when he took an irritating exchange and changed Ned's day for the better.

GD shows, from my perspective, why suicide can be considered a sin of despair and how useless and cowardly it is. [recall the montage (hilarious where the groundhog is driving!) where Murray tries to off himself, only to learn that he can't escape that way. He also learns that in some sense he is immortal. But he perceives it as an earthly immortality. Christians know it as a different kind]. Similarly, the movie does a full-frontal assault on existentialism [you are what you do] with the final conclusion being you exist to love, and the more fully you love, the more fully actualized you are. The more self-donating you are [i.e., selflessly loving--not just trying to bed Andie MacDowell] the more likely you are to change your circumstance [i.e., end the Groundhog day repeat cycle or at least make it a beautiful day worth living over and over again]

Here's another angle you may never have considered: Groundhog's day coincides with a minor Catholic feast--the Feast of Candlemass. It is 40 days after Christmas, and it is the Feast of the Presentation [i.e., the time when Mary ended her period of uncleanness and bathed in the Temple waters and presented her infant to the world, to be seen by Anna and Simeon AS the light of the world--the fulfillment of the prophesy of the ages and personal prophecies.] The secular Groundhog event is done as a question of light [will there be more winter or spring right away] and in fact, it has its link to the original Catholic feast. But don't you see the movie as a personal enlightenment film? Isn't the character at the end MUCH MORE [fill in the blank--loving, caring, brave, talented, optimistic, beautiful] than he was at the beginning? There is a part of me that believes that a good and faithful Catholic was behind the movie. Indeed, the Murray brothers often harken back to their Catholic roots... But I often wonder. The repetitiveness of the movie reminds me of Catholicism [especially the Mass and the Sacrament of Confession]---you do the same things again and again and again, but you ARE NOT the same person because the Sacraments change you in a real way. I see that I have veered from straight philosophy to religion. I did the same thing with my own life. I can no longer separate the two.

I hope you and yours are well. I wrote to you a lot several years ago and you graced me with a reply. You now have a wife and child and I still have a husband, but my man and I now have 3 children [the oldest is 2.5 years old --- yes there are twins in there]. I would be honored if you ever saw fit to reply. Ruth Anne Adams :) Clemmons, North Carolina