It is not unusual for me... and occasionally the boys... to hit the eight o'clocker. It is a bit unusual for Cheryl and Grace to join us, though. Cheryl... because she goes to adoration every Sunday at that same time... and Grace because... well... she, kinda sorta... likes to sleep.
Except for the early start, I love the 8 o'clock Mass. It is all business. But, if you get there five minutes late, you miss the first two readings and part of the Gospel. If you're ten minutes late, forget about it, you might as well hit the 9:00 Mass down the road. The key is that there is no music to bog things down.
Anyway, this past Sunday was special because both Noah and Matthew were serving on the altar. Matthew is a seasoned veteran altar server, and to be frank... it would not be a big deal for us to miss a Mass where he is on the altar. I mean he knows what he is doing, so we know that he is not going to be part of a disaster. It is not that we go to church looking for a NASCAR-type pile up on the altar... buuuut if that should happen, you want to be there for your boy.
This was Noah's first time out and we weren't sure what misfortune might befall him.
He was in charge of bell ringing and that is kind of a big deal. The way I understand it, if he rings the bell at the wrong time during the consecration, the bread remains bread and the wine remains wine. I'm pretty sure the power of the bells trumps the powers of the priest. I could be wrong about that... but I don't think so. Let's just say that there was a lot of pressure on the boy.
I am happy to report: Noah was outstanding. However, he did have a few, teensy weensy, hardly noticeable hiccups. Being the keen-eyed observer that I am, I noticed. I would now like to take this opportunity to make those hiccups part of the public record.
First, as the whole crew... priest, deacon, cross bearer, two acolytes, and another rookie first-timer... bowed and approached their assigned seats, Noah was caught like a deer in the headlights, frozen in his tracks. He had to hustle up there in a full out sprint.
Second, he smiled too much.
Third, when he wasn't smiling, he was yawning.
Fourth, when he sat down, his feet did not touch the floor, so he sat up there swinging his feet. And finally, he scratched his face during prayer time. I told him we can remedy the scratching with a little training. I suggested that we make him stand with his hands folded and we could tickle him with a feather and slap him silly if he ever goes to scratch. Tough love, but God would understand.
Because the boys had to be at the church early, Cheryl and I took separate cars. After Mass, as we left the church, all three kids jumped in my car. Why did they all drive with me, you ask? I am the cool parent. As if! 'Nuf said. Holla! ( I am pretty sure those are all cool things to say).
As we were leaving the parking lot, Grace was exasperated as she looked in the mirror. I assumed that she was frustrated by a bad hair day... forced upon her by the early wake-up call. As she huffed and puffed, she said the words that will be burned in my ears for the rest of my life.
I got your worst traits and mom's worst traits!
What are you talking about?
Look at my nose!
Do you think it looks like my nose or mom's nose?
It is your fat nose with mom's bump!
What else do you have from me?
Your bad vision, chubby cheeks and double chin, short height and less-than-perfect teeth.
Is that it? Anything else from me?
No.
What terrible traits did you get from Mom?
Her personality!
Ouch!
Not sure which is worse, being the "blind date guy"... short, ugly with a fat nose, bad vision, bad teeth, chubby cheeks with a double chin... but a good personality?... or the hot chick with the crummy personality. It's a coin flip!
Well Grace, I feel bad for you... you are kind of like a female Frankenstein! Sorry about that.
I didn't mean anything bad by what I said, Dad.
Oh, Sweetie... I don't see how anyone could possibly take what you said in a bad way. I am not upset... Maybe your crazy nut-job-of-a-mother won't be too happy if she ever hears about this conversation... but what are the chances of that happening?
I never said Mom was a "nut job." It's just that Mom is too nice... and I am just like her.
So let me get this straight... you think Mom is too nice and you think that I am too short, have bad vision, bad teeth, chubby cheeks and a double chin!
Exactly.
Yeah, I don't see how anyone could possible be upset by those statements.
And this, ladies and gentleman, is what children do to parents. They take you to great heights, fill you with pride and joy, and then in the blink of an eye, they bring you right back down to earth. Heck, in this particular case, it would seem that Cheryl and I actually collaborated in creating a monster of sorts.
Funny thing about it is that I know, and Gracie knows, that her mother has a great personality. There is no such thing as being too nice. And I'll be honest with you... I know that I out-kicked my coverage when I married Cheryl. She is way more beautiful than I am handsome. But at worst... I am slightly, and I mean ever so slightly, below-average looking. I am certain that we can all agree that I am hardly the hideous beast that my daughter described.
Most importantly, I happen to think that Grace is a beautiful girl with a perfect personality... much like her mom's... and I have no idea what other "bad traits" of her own that she is talking about.
Every Sunday, after I receive the Eucharist, I get back to my pew and say a prayer for my children. As part of that prayer, I ask God to look after their future spouses and to guide those unknown individuals in the right direction. Despite all of my faults, I think Grace would do alright to marry a guy just like her dear old, albeit malformed, dad. Similarly, our boys would be lucky to marry a woman as "nutty/nice" as Cheryl. God has been pretty good to us and I am hopeful that He will continue to answer my prayers.
But, in order to hedge my bets, I will continue to send my boys up on the altar to serve. What could that hurt? In fact, I will send one of them up there walking... and the other one I will send up there in a full-out sprint.
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| Right... "Frankenstein." Photo credit : Hannah Harger Photography |
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