We’ve had First Communions at my parish the past couple of weeks, and they are such a gas! First, I love a day when the pews are crowded to the max, because it’s always an opportunity for all of us regulars to be so friendly and welcoming that maybe the adults will think about coming back again sometime before Christmas or Easter.
Second, it’s so great to watch the kids in their white robes and bibs. Their looks and emotions run the gamut. One boy was so confident and emotive when he did the first reading that we all burst into applause! The kid’s definitely got a future as a public speaker, whether it’s as a priest, actor, lawyer, or politician. Then there are the ones who are a little quieter, but seem to get the whole thing. They look somewhat etheral, as if Jesus is holding their hand when they approach the altar.
Then there are the third kind. They’re fidgety. Their eyes are everywhere but on what’s going on at the front of the church. They and their families are the first ones out the door after photos are taken, because they don’t know anyone else that well. They don’t fit in, and they don’t get that in my parish anyway, fitting in is not required. You’re always welcomed.
My heart goes out to that third group, because that’s where I was forty-odd years ago. I’d missed several weeks of once-a-week catechism that winter due to having a serious case of pneumonia followed by measles and chicken pox, and the nun was less than sympathetic. I’d been gone the day she passed out the paper with the prayers we were supposed to memorize, and so I learned the ones from the book instead. She called me a liar in front of the class when I said I’d never received the sheet… then after my mother called her, apologized to me privately. First Communion was something I was doing because we were Catholic. No conversation at home about what a special, joyous, important thing was happening.
My expression in this photo says a lot about how I felt that day. I think about that when I see the unengaged kids… and tuck away a special prayer for them.
Couldn't someone have told me to straighten my dress before they took this picture?
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