Over the course of the past year, we have been preparing for my oldest son’s first communion. Within the past few weeks, I’ve been talking to my Mom about it. She shared with me memories of her first communion. The company at her parents’ house, the flowers that were in bloom. She asked me if I remember mine. I can remember the Knights of Columbus standing on either side of the isle, holding their swords in a criss cross pattern above us, as we took our walk toward the alter. It was like walking under a silver canopy. I remember the gift my parents gave me. It was a necklace with a gold cross and a diamond in the center. It was my first piece of jewelry. It been more then 20 years and I still have it.
It seems everyone I’ve asked, in the Catholic Church, can remember their special day of First Communion. This made me wonder what my son was going to remember about his special day. I doubt it will be that the dogs had a fresh bath, the lawn was manicured, the house was clean, or that the food was good.
It seems everyone I’ve asked, in the Catholic Church, can remember their special day of First Communion. This made me wonder what my son was going to remember about his special day. I doubt it will be that the dogs had a fresh bath, the lawn was manicured, the house was clean, or that the food was good.
We arrived early for pictures. He kept stepping out of line, and we would end up in the back. We started out third in line, and ended up being the last one to get our picture taken. That worked out well, because one of his good friends came in… almost late. We stood in line together and talked. With being the last two in line, we ended up getting a nice snapshot of them together, without feeling rushed.
There were 33 children in his class taking first communion Last Saturday. Each child stood up with their parents behind them as they took the host for the first time. When our turn came, I was surprised how my emotions rose to the surface. My little baby is growing up before my eyes. Father handed John the host and I found myself praying. “Dear God, Please watch over my son as he grows to be a man. Help guide him to make a good life. Please guide him in a gentle way to make good choices.”
John took the host, and turned Left. (We were supposed to turn Right to return to our pew.) I fallowed him, but before I touched his shoulder he turned around. We walked together with his Dad down the right aisle. If this was a sign, a response to my prayer, I have a theory. It’s not the sign I wanted, but I’m listening Lord. We are going to make mistakes. We are going to head down the wrong path now and then, but we can turn around. We each have to find our own way. Hopefully we learn from our mistakes, the big ones and the little ones.
After the ceremony, we had a small gathering at our home. It was very nice; with BBQ, potato salad, Cole slaw, sparkling wine, and soda. Every one enjoyed the cake. John received some wonderful presents. The weather man had predicted rain, but it never did. The kids played in the yard. The grownups had conversation. It’s hard to say what John will remember about his First Communion. It could be how the wafer tasted, or the friends he sat with in the pew. Maybe it will be how they sang the response to their baptismal promises, or the homily about guardian angels and Gods love for us. It could be the torture of posing for tons of pictures. Maybe it will be that he found a fossil in a rock with his cousin, or playing with new toys with his brothers. He will probably remember that Grandma and Grandpa stayed the night and put him to bed.
Whichever memories stick with him, I hope they remind him of how much he was loved. I hope they are memories of friends and family, and that they are full of love and happiness.
There were 33 children in his class taking first communion Last Saturday. Each child stood up with their parents behind them as they took the host for the first time. When our turn came, I was surprised how my emotions rose to the surface. My little baby is growing up before my eyes. Father handed John the host and I found myself praying. “Dear God, Please watch over my son as he grows to be a man. Help guide him to make a good life. Please guide him in a gentle way to make good choices.”
John took the host, and turned Left. (We were supposed to turn Right to return to our pew.) I fallowed him, but before I touched his shoulder he turned around. We walked together with his Dad down the right aisle. If this was a sign, a response to my prayer, I have a theory. It’s not the sign I wanted, but I’m listening Lord. We are going to make mistakes. We are going to head down the wrong path now and then, but we can turn around. We each have to find our own way. Hopefully we learn from our mistakes, the big ones and the little ones.
After the ceremony, we had a small gathering at our home. It was very nice; with BBQ, potato salad, Cole slaw, sparkling wine, and soda. Every one enjoyed the cake. John received some wonderful presents. The weather man had predicted rain, but it never did. The kids played in the yard. The grownups had conversation. It’s hard to say what John will remember about his First Communion. It could be how the wafer tasted, or the friends he sat with in the pew. Maybe it will be how they sang the response to their baptismal promises, or the homily about guardian angels and Gods love for us. It could be the torture of posing for tons of pictures. Maybe it will be that he found a fossil in a rock with his cousin, or playing with new toys with his brothers. He will probably remember that Grandma and Grandpa stayed the night and put him to bed.
Whichever memories stick with him, I hope they remind him of how much he was loved. I hope they are memories of friends and family, and that they are full of love and happiness.
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