Mary's First Communion

Milestones are a part of everyone's life. The memorable markers of growth, passage and change bring a sense of nostalgia to young and old alike.

Things like white lace, rosaries, veils, family parties, cakes and pictures are all part of the ritual surrounding a 1st Communion. Twenty-one years ago our daughter celebrated her First Communion and it came with a story I'll always remember.

I was delighted and excited to be the parent of a 2nd grader that would soon be receiving Our Lord in Holy Communion for the first time. As I talked with Mary Rose about this big event in her life, I recalled how thrilled I was many years before to present her for baptism into the Catholic Church when she was only six weeks old. On her Baptism day she wore a pretty white dress with a miraculous medal on a chain around her baby neck. I felt I was presenting her to the Lord and asking for his special blessing upon her. Now 7 years later I was again bringing her to the Lord and this time letting her walk up to the Lord herself and welcome Him into her life.

As part of the preparation, I asked Mary Rose how she'd like to dress for her special day. I wondered if she wanted to wear a veil, or flowers in her hair and what kind of dress did she want us to buy. I so fondly remember these same discussions surrounding my First Communion so I was not prepared for Mary Rose's response that she "hated dresses" and wouldn't wear one. A sudden panic did arise in me and some horror at what the alternative might be in my little girl's mind. I had visions of white stretch pants and a big T-shirt, certainly not my idea of appropriate attire. I'm pleased to say I stayed outwardly calm though and planned carefully my next move.

I pulled out pictures of Mary Rose's big sister, Beth's First Communion, also, the dress and veil for "hands on"discussion. I explained that all girls dress up special for this day.

A few weeks went by and I dared not discuss "dresses." I only hoped that Mary Rose would come around to the idea.

Finally it was time to go shopping for First Communion clothes. I had decided by this time that probably simplicity in style was the safest way to go. However, once again Mom was thrown off balance. Mary Rose picked out the laciest, most ruffled, gorgeous dress I had ever seen and a veil to go along with it. I was ecstatic.

Professional First Communion pictures were being taken at church a month before First Communion so we had the opportunity for dress rehearsal. On picture day I curled Mary Rose's hair (first time ever) and She wore a pearl, rosary bracelet and dotted Swiss tights with white patent leather shoes. Mary Rose was transformed into the most delicate, angelic, gorgeous little girl I had ever set eyes on.

Picture taking only took about five minutes, so I decided to take my little treasure and show her off to one of my co-workers. Philly, Daddy Rex and I stood beaming with pride at this beautiful little daughter of ours as I made the introductions. Philly, Rex and I raved over this little girl standing quietly before us and then with all eyes focused on Mary Rose, Philly stooped over and asked Mary Rose "how do you feel all dressed up so pretty?" Out of that little bitty mouth came the two single words "like hell." I think the shocked gasps of her parents could have been heard up and down the hallways and the looks on our faces could have won a Pulitzer Prize.  Philly, the professional counselor that she is, recovered the quickest and proceeded to ask Mary Rose "what does it feel like to feel like hell?" Mary Rose took the edge of her lacy dress and swirled it gracefully in the air explaining that she didn't like dresses.

By this time, Mom and Dad were starting to rally from the shock and it was becoming extraordinarily funny as to how perfectly Mary Rose had expressed herself. I was delighted that Mary Rose felt so free to express her feelings and at the same time accept the lace and ruffles associated with this milestone.

Once in the car I asked Rex how he felt when she said "that". He replied that he was shocked and mortified. I was thinking, isn't that what happens to parents sometimes along the journey?

Mary is now a lovely, married mother of two adorable little girls. Mary wore a gorgeous white gown and veil for her wedding. She looked as beautiful and angelic as she did on First Communion picture day those many years ago. 

The Day I Gave My Husband Away

Like most teenage girls, I often dreamed of my ideal man.  He would be loving, patient, kind and considerate.   We would marry and his undying love would care for me and whatever children we had.  But this guy was not just the man of my dreams.  He was the man of my prayers.  Every day, I stopped in the convent Chapel and prayed that the Lord would send me just such a man.

On September 8, 1973, I walked down the aisle and said “I do” to Rex, the man of my hopes and prayers. As the years went by, Rex proved to be exactly everything I had requested.  We had five children.  With each baby, it seemed that our love deepened for each other and for God. 

Together, we volunteered for various ministries in our parish and diocese.  Slowly, the feeling grew within us both, that Rex was called to be a permanent deacon, to serve in an official capacity as an assistant shepherd of our church’s flock.   While attending the ordination of a neighbor, during Mass, Rex and I looked over at each other.  No words were necessary.  At that moment, we both knew for certain that Rex was being called.  Silently, we simply nodded at one another.

Although only the man is ordained to the office of deacon, spouses participate in the formation classes.  It was during this time of preparation when I came to realize that this was not just one more way in which Rex would volunteer for our parish.  It was a commitment beyond any he had ever previously made.  Rex had to agree not to remarry in the event of my death. He would have a flock to help shepherd.   Rex’s pact with God would not just be  between the two of them either.  I had to give away my husband.  For the first time in our married life, I'd be alone in the pew with our children. 

Rex and I  had always  attended Mass as a family, sitting together and praying together. My husband and I sat side by side as we believed this was an unspoken symbol of our union in Christ.  Our children knew that we were inseparable and even they didn't sit between us!   It’s what I had envisioned as a young girl so many years before when I prayed for a good husband.

Now, there would be many Sundays, holidays and major feasts days where I would have full responsibility of the five children in the pew with me. With three boys and two girls getting through one Mass alone would be a challenge.  Looking ahead to a long future as the lone adult in our pew, was intimidating.  Our youngest would be one year old when Daddy was ordained. The other children were all in their formative years between the ages of three and twelve.  The whole group together was like a bouquet of helium filled balloons that wanted to flitter away.  I wish I could brag that the children sat as quiet, little angels during Masses but my crowd's personalities just didn't fit that description.  Keeping order in the pew and not providing huge distractions to those around us was something Rex had always been there to help with.  Taking on this daunting task alone was one of the toughest things I'd have to adjust to as the wife of a deacon.

As part of our preparation for ordination, we had occasional interviews in front of the diaconate board. These interviews were meant for further discernment about whether we'd be ready for ordination. One of these important interviews happened to come on our wedding anniversary date. At first, I did not think anything of the coincidence but after the interview, I was hit by the immense significance. During the interview, I was asked how I felt about Rex’s ordination. The Holy Spirit illuminated my thoughts as I responded.

"In high school I had prayed for the Lord to send me a wonderful man,” I explained. “He heard my prayer and answered it. Now, I am being asked to give Rex back to the Lord in service of His people. How can I say no?”

It has been twenty-four years since I willingly gave Rex back to our Lord when he was ordained a permanent deacon. I still remember the joy flowing through me like a fountain.  Over the years, I've missed Rex sitting next to me, especially at our children's special events such as First Communion and Confirmation.  Even on ordinary Sundays, I sometimes wished for Rex's help with the children during Mass.  One memorable Sunday I took the baby to the back of the church since he was being rather fussy.  Before long, I heard the patter of little patent-leather shoes coming down the aisle. There was his teary-eyed three-year-old sister who missed us.  Next around the corner appeared the smiling face of my seven-year-old child, coming to see if I needed anything.  After a few minutes my ten-year-old son came to see what was going on.  Finally, the oldest, our twelve-year-old daughter, showed up thinking maybe I needed her help. It felt as though my bouquet of helium balloons was let loose in the church.   With everyone accounted for, I rounded the children up and trekked back to the empty pew. We made quite a procession.

The years have since passed and the children are grown. Our youngest son was an usher and sacristan so eventually he wasn't in the pew with me anymore. However, I know that my husband, Rex, is a very gifted man and that the love he shows me and our children is not just for our family. The small sacrifice of sitting in a pew alone I've accepted so that others may be blessed by the Lord through my precious spouse. I rejoice in having such a wonderful gift I can lovingly share with others.

This story is published in Amazing Grace for Families 

Easter Vigil and the Lady Who Fell Down

A few years ago the Easter Vigil mass was an extra special event as my future daughter in law was becoming Catholic. It had been a long time dream for her and her excitement spilled out on our whole family.

Since my husband, Rex, was one of the Deacons participating in the mass we had arrived early at the church. 

A few families were already there claiming the coveted front rows and aisle seats.  Another lady was standing in the sanctuary handing out the candles for the congregation as they arrived.  I knew the church would be filling up fast so I took my unlit candle and scanned the darkened church to see where I might find a row for our family.

As I entered the church, I decided to head off to the left side where there were some seats available and the third row was still empty.  Glancing that way, I was briefly distracted. Suddenly, without warning,  there was a large "splat"  that drew my attention.  There on the floor  was sprawled a sweet middle aged lady.  Her legs were splayed through her lovely floral skirt, her silvery high heels kicked off in various directions, her designer glasses across the aisle and her cocktail purse all but dumped on the floor. 

I don't know how long she was there but three men came running to her aid out of nowhere.  They bent down and asked "are you alright"?? I looked at them and said "I'm fine and I didn't even break my candle".

They helped me up and I gathered my shoes as one of the men handed me my glasses.  I stooped over to pick up my scattered shoes and said "I think I'll just go over here (to the pew) and regroup". In the pew, I put on both shoes, my glasses, rearranged my purse and straightened up my skewed clothing.  With great humility and any pride squelched, I pulled up what dignity remained and slowly stood up. I quickly looked around to see if anyone else had witnessed the Deacon's wife falling flat on her face in her Easter finery!  Only one lady that I recognized was looking my way so I was hopeful that this event was quickly forgotten.

As I gracefully glided into my chosen pew, third row from the front, I was surprised to see the lights in the church come on.  Usually everything stays dark until the Easter candle is processed in.  I was grateful that lights were now on as it would help others to see their way into the church. 

Mass was lovely as was the reception following.  Back at home, late that night, I queried my husband if he had heard about the lady that had fallen down in church.  He said that an usher came back and said something about it and that the light should probably be turned on. I asked Rex if he heard anything about who the lady was that had fallen down.  To my great relief he hadn't heard so I felt safe that I hadn't become the talk of the sacristy that night! 

Dressed in Blue for the Blessed Mother

When my three-year -old son needed surgery, I was worried how to take care of his older sister and nursing baby brother, and still give all my attention to Paul. After considering all options it was decided that my husband would take Paul for his surgery while I stayed home with the other two children. This decision broke my heart, as I wanted to be at my son’s side to love and care for him, even though it was called "minor" surgery by his pediatric physician.

The day before the surgery I had an idea. I dressed Paul in a “Blessed Mother” blue shirt

and took him over to the chapel of our parish church. We knelt in front of the Blessed Sacrament in the Tabernacle, and I silently presented him to our Mother Mary. I asked her to be with Paul just as I would want to be there with him. I asked her to hold his hand and take care of him in every way I would have done. I told no one what I had done, not even Paul.

Early the next morning, Paul and his dad headed off to the hospital. I stayed home, lit a blessed candle and started my hours of praying for my beloved little son. Later in the afternoon, Paul and his dad returned home. I was quick to hold Paul and be reassured that he was well. As I cuddled him I told him I so much wanted to be with him but since I couldn't  I asked the Blessed Mother to be with him. To my great surprise Paul said, “I know”. Stunned, I asked him to explain. He said “Daddy held my hand, the nurse held my hand, and the Blessed Mother held my hand”.

A few years later, while in first grade at our large parish school, Paul was chosen to place the ringlet of flowers on the statue of the Blessed Mother at May Crowning. I still smile because I know she continues to watch over him even now as a thirty-plus year-old adult.

Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee.

Blessed art thou amongst women,

and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, Mother of God,

pray for us sinners,

now and at the hour of our death. Amen

Whisper in Church

As a wife of a permanent deacon and a mom of five children, I have grown accustomed to expecting the unexpected. However, I never can anticipate what will happen concerning my family, even in Church. A few years ago my husband was in full-time ministry in a Colorado mountain parish. It was a unique experience living in a parish house next door to the Church. Our five children knew their way through every crack and crevice of the Church and parish hall. While my husband was working in the parish office or out ministering to the parishioners, one of our sons took care of mowing the churchyard grass or shoveling and snow blowing the overnight snowfall for the early daily Mass attendees. We were definitely a visible presence in the small town and parish.

One Sunday at Mass I was very surprised when during the homily the pastor pulled out my son’s T-shirt with a message on it. Unknown to me he had borrowed it after seeing my son wearing it. Our pastor thought it would be a great prop for his homily that day.

Another time while one son and his friend were holding tall candle sticks during the Stations of the Cross, they got the hysterical giggles. The candles they were holding bounced around and I could only think of hot wax dripping everywhere.  The other mother and I tried to signal our boys to settle down but it was a lost cause. What’s a mother to do when such laughter is contagious?

With everyday being a new experience, I shouldn't have been surprised one particular Mass. It was a lovely spring Sunday and the doors of the Church were wide open. The blooming spring air was a welcome relief after a long, snowy winter. Mass was well underway when suddenly our Pastor stopped and started walking down the center aisle of the church. To my embarrassment, he stooped over and picked up our sweet, quiet, precious dog, Whisper (we named her that because she rarely barked). Unknown to us, Whisper had her secret ways of getting out of the little parish house and on this particular day, she came straight over to attend Mass with us. Our pastor welcomed her with open arms and greeted her as one of God’s little creatures. Our family still remembers this interruption at Mass and laughs over the mixed embarrassment and delight of seeing our dog in church. This faithful little pal isn't with us anymore, but she is a part of our Catholic family history whose memory continues to bring laughter into our lives.