Eye Contact and Inspiration

A follow-up to the Sunday, May 16, 2010 blog.

When I served Communion on Sunday, I concentrated on good eye contact and started to see the humanity in each person. Then I felt like we are all part of the same community, which we are. It increased my feelings of belonging in the parish community.

A woman in the first row had her small son with her. The child looked to be about four or five years old and wanted to be held a lot. He looked too heavy to be held all the time, and sometimes the mom put him down. The son would then stand with his back towards the priest and hugged his mother.

When the mom came up for Communion, her son came with of course. Then he proceeded to grab the Host out of her hand! The mom grabbed it back, and the child tried to grabbing it again and started whining that he wanted one too. The mother said he couldn't have a Host. Sigh.

After Communion I was a one out of two sacristans. That's when I got all nervous and befuddled. Where was the other sacristan? I stepped out into the hallway and found another EOM to help me. Finally the other sacristan showed up, and in the end it took five of us to set up for the next Mass. We were all a bit unsure as to what we were doing. Yes, we were trained. Yes there were pictures and diagrams to follow. Maybe we were just insecure. We acted that way.

That evening I went to dinner at my friends' house. My friend grew up Jewish and married a "recovering Catholic." They celebrate the partiness of Christmas and are raising their son in no particular faith. She asked me if I found church inspirational. I said sometimes. It was a great opportunity to talk about my faith and church and God and Jesus, but the cat got my tongue. Instead I said, "Sometimes." This is not the first time she's asked me about Catholicism. I always feel insecure when I give her an answer. So, I need to write how church inspires me when I can think it through and then send her letter about it.

Getting Ready

1) Here I am getting ready to go to Mass, and I'm scheduled to serve as an EOM. I've put the whole Mother's Day issue and church attendance issue behind me for another year.

2) This week I received a short note from my godson. I do love him so much. He's in high school now, and there's nothing he can do that would make me stop loving him.

3) The church fathers aren't going to listen to me regarding the removal of original sin. Hey, no one is reading my blog as far as I can tell.

Post-MD

MD stand's for Mother's Day, and I purposely did not attend Mass. You see, all the moms I have had are gone. I am not a mom. There's a lot of pain involved when I am confronted with Mother's Day. It's hard going to church where mothers are glorified (as they probably should be), but I really feel like I lack so much. On Sunday, I had a thought that I am a Catholic failure due to not bearing children. Well, my life didn't go that route. Sometimes the church people forget that we single people exist.

Instead I went shopping with another single friend, and took my dad on some errands. I had a really good day. While walking in the store, another woman wished my friend and me a Happy Mother's Day. Automatically I said, "thank you." Then a little while later my friend and I talked about what to say to such greetings. I decided that thank you was the appropriate response. It's nice that people wish me a nice day, and I take any polite and cheerful greetings that come my way. My friend is an atheist and said she has to nagivate in a world that is so religious. Sure, she could choose to believe God. I've known for quite a while that she was an atheist. I gave her a homemade Easter card. She thanked me. Even though I knew she was an atheist, I gave her a card anyway. It was Easter, and I was in the mood to spread joy and blessings around. But I did pray for her the other night. But I am just going to be me, and not try to convert her. Besides, I am not a very good Catholic if I'm skipping Mass.

Yes, at times I miss my mother and my grandmother. And yes, it would have been nice to hold a newborn of mine. At times I feel like I have so much LIFE inside of me that I need to express in other ways.

I can't believe I almost forgot that my cousin wished me a Happy Godmother's Day. I was her Confirmation sponsor.

I should have gone to church.

Hands

This past Sunday I was an extraordinary minister of communion. In the early '90 I was a communion minister and a lector. Then my close church friends moved away, and I got really depressed. Because I was so depressed I started blowing off my assignments until I was dropped from the schedules. Back then when I gave communion I would look into each person's eyes and see the love of Jesus. I had love for humanity and for all these people who received.

Once again I am a communion minister, and I am waiting to see the love, waiting to feel the love. The problem is that the current pastor is very particular about the protocol. Then he said to use common sense. Well, I forgot all the rules, so I'm nervous. Because I'm nervous I lose all common sense. Another communion minister (I forgot her name) told me that all these rules drive her nuts. Twice now I have confided my nervousness to an older woman, another communion minister I'll call E. I have known E since I was about seven years old. Twice she has prayed over me. That helps. She'll pray over anyone. She's very generous with her prayers, but I feel like she's giving me a Cadillac each time. So she told me that God is using my hands for this act of service and act of love. She said let God work through me. So, have I broken protocol? I don't know and I'm not sure I care. I am respectful as I can be in that moment when I'm on communion duty. And as I write this, I realize that as long as I don't knock down a candle and burn down the church everything will be okay. And if the candle shall fall and burn down the church, there are plenty of emergency exit doors. Everything will be okay. It would be horrible, it would be expensive, but the parish would survive. We've survived a lot.

Now, if I could relax and feel the love . . .