Please Forgive Me

When a moment returns to my mind that repeatedly turns my face red, causes me to shake my head at myself and consistently gets me to laugh at its climax... I deem it worthy of being shared. I battled with whether or not to write this story because I didn't want to offend anyone. I feel the need to share it, because.... well, it's funny. I am one that laughs at life and doesn't take things too seriously. So when you read this, look at it from my perspective and laugh with me.

It was Easter Sunday and I was hired to photograph a beautiful little girl's first communion. I was honored, I was excited and a little bit nervous. I had been to Mass before with my grandma, but that was many years ago. I think I was ten. I called my mom beforehand to get the gist of how a first communion ceremony unfolds. She told me about her first communion as a little girl to give me a heads-up. I wanted to be prepared. I love a good challenge but I still like to prepare when I go into a situation completely in the dark.

I was already at a disadvantage before walking in the door. I was scared. Scared of humilitating myself, disgracing the church (in innocence of course) by doing something I shouldn't and getting kicked out of Mass. To someone that doesn't attend Mass this was a very intimidating situation to be in. There can be a lot of pressure when you are expected to know what to do.

I arrived at the church early. I was hoping to get a feel for the service. I was trying to get a feel for things so that I wouldn't seem like such an outsider. The service coordinator told me that I could stand up at the front of the sanctuary during the ceremony and that I was free to take pictures throughout Mass. One restriction, I was to not take pictures as the priest was blessing the elements.

Alright, easy enough... I got it!

I was at the front of the sanctuary were I was told I could stand. All of a sudden, I started to feel very out of place. I was the only one in front other than the priest and he was only about five feet away. I was definitely not feeling comfortable with this placement. As gracefully as I could, I crouched out of view of the congregation and found a more low-profile position on the left-side of the sanctuary. Thank to my amazing 70-200 mm lens we were still in business and the redness in my face had subsided a bit.

Mass continued and I rejoined my clients in the pew reserved for the families who had children receiving their first communion; the front pew.

The first communion ceremony was over and I was done shooting until after Mass. So I put down my camera and decided to participate in the rest of the service. The priest then called up the congregation to take communion.

Great! That sounds nice. I haven't taken communion in awhile. I followed the crowd and got in line.

Now, at this point of the story, most of you understand the contradiction. Most of you are already laughing. I was not supposed to be in line. Anyhow, lets move on.

I'm in line. I'm in the front. Remember my prime, reserved, first-class spot. Hmm, this is very different from how I am used to recieving communion. No problem; I will just observe and mimic those in front of me. I see everyone cupping their hands together, putting them out and then the priest gives them the blessed bread.

Alright, lets do this!

It was my turn. I cupped my hands together, reached out to the priest and waited. He said, "Christ's body." I looked up at the priest, his eyes were fixed on mine. He was just staring at me. Nothing was happening. So I gave a little gesture with my cupped hands. I sort of moved them forward a bit as if to say, "I'm ready, see!" Again nothing was happening. What was I doing wrong? I looked up at his eyes again and I could see that he wanted me to say something. I sort of started to panic. What was I supposed to say? Everyone had been whispering and I couldn't make out what they had said. I probably thought in that moment they were being polite and giving thanks as he placed the bread in their perfectly cupped hands. I obviously didn't feel that saying thank you was the way to go as I remained silent in a terrified frozen state. I should've paid closer attention and read some lips. "What the heck is the word?" I thought. Then I opened my mouth in a moment of desperation and blurted out in a whiny, scratchy, frightened voice, "I don't know what to say?"

He immediately implied, "You're not catholic." I felt my heart beating out of my chest and my face quickly turning a thousand shades of pink. I topped off our lovely public conversation with, "I'm a christian!"

He then placed his hand on my head and said a prayer for me. In front of the long line that was residing behind me, I patiently listened. He sent me on my way and I walked back to my pew, empty handed.

Well that was a surprise.

Let me remind you, I live in a very small town. I might not remember very many faces from that day, but I am sure mine will be remembered. You can be sure there is one priestly face I will always remember. I will always remember those eyes, that prayer and that moment of paralyzing fear. Maybe that is what Catholic's refer to as the fear of God!

The Silent Laugh That Went Awry

We sit together with our hands intertwined like a newlywed couple. We are kidless. As long as their nursery number doesn't show up on the screen. Comfortable. Happy. We take a deep breath as we relax and listen.

I soon begin to realize my attention span is not as mature as I thought. In fact it's closely resembling that of my four year old. I shift my weight a few times. I uncross and then cross my legs again. I flip through the scriptures in a student-of-the-Bible type fashion. 

I then did something I knew in my heart I shouldn't have done. I failed to heed the red flags that were being raised in my heart. I didn't listen. I looked to my left. 

I looked into the eyes of the handsome man sitting next to me whose hand I was holding. He had that look in his eye. The look that told me that he to was feeling the need to do a few jumping jacks. It was a very ornery look. I knew this look well. Trying to be a good girl I quickly looked away. Continuing down this path was a dangerous one.

I sat still and avoided the urge to look again at that mischievous face wanting to cause trouble and provoke me. I fought it for a few minutes, but the temptation was to strong and I looked again.  This time he spoke. I can't remember exactly what he said, but apparently it was funny. So funny, that it caused me to demonstrate my over-exaggerated silent laugh. 

I felt a big sense of accomplishment that I had overcome my juvenile impulse in a very quiet adult-like manner. I took what he had to dish out and reacted with minimal damage. 

I refocused myself back to the message. I forced myself to only look straight ahead or down at my Bible. 

I was confident that our little moment of childish banter had passed. I only glanced over to confirm that this was the case.

I was way off. This time he did what he knew would, with-out a doubt,  send me over the edge. 

He mocked me. 

It was there all along. Hiding. The giddiness had never really left, it had just been smoldering. He patiently waited for the perfect opportunity.

I didn't even know what I had done was worthy of mocking. But he did. And it was. 



He whispered in my ear, "this is what you look like when you do your silent laugh." I watched him close his eyes, throw his head back so that it touched the back of the pew, open his mouth as wide as it would go as if he were catching flies, and not make a sound.

That was it. He nailed it. He accomplished his mission. He knew the exact string to pull. 

For some reason, in a setting where you are told to be composed, quiet and focused, a very simple poke at ones character becomes a gut-busting witticism. 

Oh yes, it happened. An uncontrollable, spit spraying, snot-out-the-nose kind-of laugh, came spewing out of my mouth. I tried desperately to hold it in, but it only made it that much worse as it was coming out. 

I quickly began to think of bad things. Terrible things. Things that would make me cry. Anything that would suppress the desire to continue to make a fool out of myself either by continuing to laugh uncontrollably, or by running out of the sanctuary like wild hyena. 

Either way, he was in trouble. 

I wouldn't be surprised if we loose our privilege to sit next to each other.  I wouldn't be surprised if one day we are asked to separate. During church.

Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter can be said to remedy anything.  ~Kurt Vonnegut

Childlike Faith

Today my plan was to go to church. Instead the kids and I piled in the car and drove to Denver, but it will be a drive I will never forget!!

As usual we were rockin out to Hannah Montana, making our way down the mountain. I hear Abby in the back ask me, " mom why are you talking to yourself?" I respond with, "sometimes mommy does that to clear her head." We all giggled, glad I can simply amuse them, for now!

It was quiet in the car because the music was turned off. The next question from Abby comes, " mom when we get to heaven do we get new bodies and a new name?" I don't know why I was shocked when she said that, I know she is a smart girl, but I didn't remember talking to her about it before. It pleasantly surprised me. I asked her where she had heard it and she said a friend had told her.

I love how God works. When I fail as a parent, feeling like she should be hearing that from me and not a friend, He gives me this amazing opportunity to share salvation with my kids. This moment didn't happen because I sat down and had my agenda to share the gospel with them when I saw fit, but He knew when their hearts would be ready and gave them the questions to ask. It wasn't because when I left the house today I had it on my mind to bring up heaven in the car, but it was because He is good and knows what his children need in the moment they need it.

So then the questions start pouring in, from all over the car. What does heaven look like? Why do we have to die? Is Jesus still on the cross? You mean He never sinned? When do we go to heaven? Even Matty pipes up every once an awhile and says something, no one knows what he is saying, but he feels included!!! We talked the whole way down to Denver. I had this amazing opportunity to share with my kids how God loved us so much that he died for us, so we could be free from sin and live forever with him in eternity. I explained that if they accept Jesus and believed in what He did for them that they would be saved, and live with him forever. Abby says,"well that's easy, of course I believe!" Then Ella says, "yeah, I believe too!" So simple, so easy, if only everyone could have that childlike faith!!!

Matthew 18:2-3 (Jesus is talking to his disciples) Then Jesus called a little child to Him , set him in the midst of them, and said, "Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven."

Romans 10:9-10 if you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.

It took me a minute to realize what had just happened, but after it became clear that my girls had just confessed their faith in Jesus, my heart could not have been more full!!!

As a mom nothing could ever top this moment!!

Ella then say's,"mom do you think there will be enough room on Jesus' lap for me when I get to heaven, because I really want to sit on His lap, and eat dinner with Him too?"

The angels are rejoicing today!!!

Luke 15:10