Fishy Faces and Forgiveness
by Carolee McGrath in Faith on Thursday, February 18, 2010 6:00 AM
Just the thought of taking my two-children-under-two to a weekday mass was daunting. But as the winter drearies gave way to the warmth of the sun, I found myself feeling a gentle invitation to give it a try.
St. Joseph’s feast day was fast approaching. I knew he was an important saint and a powerful intercessor, but I felt as if I had more of a relationship with St. Joseph the statue than St. Joseph the man. On his feast day, I woke up wanting to go to mass. I remembered reading that confessions were available after mass, and thought, “and that would be shooting for the moon!”
I laughed out loud as I remembered a catchy jingle I knew years ago: “St. Joseph, St. Joseph, he’s my man, if he can’t do it, nobody can!” Bold and confident, those words struck my both my curiosity and my funny bone.
I decided to ask St. Joseph for help, simply and directly, as I was changing a diaper:
“St. Joseph, I would like to go to mass today. I also want to go to confession, but this feels next to impossible. (Pause) What can you do to help me?”
An hour later, I pushed my double stroller, my two little people, the diaper bag, and my heart palpitations into church. I spotted some benches outside the glassed-in sanctuary that looked like the safest bet for seating. My toddler hovered near the benches while the baby for-the-most-part enjoyed his stroller stadium seating. I wondered if anyone else had ever pushed a double stroller up to communion?
After mass, some people sat down next to us and glanced quizzically in our direction. And then came the whispered question: “Are you all in line?”
I blinked and looked a bit dazed. “In line for what?” I wondered silently. Then I learned the very spot we chose to sit in for mass turned into the confessional line the instant mass was over! And, I was at the beginning! “Why, ahh, yes” I said, as I smiled nervously. I sat jiggling both children on my lap wondering how in the world I was going to do this.
After the initial shock of realizing that our seats for mass turned into the first part of the confessional line, I drew a few deep breaths. The noises of my little ones provided quite a contrast to the silent contemplative preparation of the adults next to me! The woman sitting beside me leaned over and quietly offered to hold the baby during my confession. She smiled and I realized she had a familiar face. I shook my head in disbelief and thanked her.
Father entered the confessional and, upon cue, I stood up. I usually went to confession alone, but this circumstance seemed to be an exception. I reached out to grasp my toddler’s little hand, and she promptly took a few stridden steps away from me and plopped her tummy down on the carpet. My cheeks reddened. I scooped her up and by the time I found my seat, I imagined Father must have been waiting for an eternity.
I told him how my worries about bringing the children stopped me in my tracks. He smiled. His gaze was tender and inviting. He said, “You and the children are always welcome Please come anytime.”
With those words, my hesitation and fear melted away.
While Father listened to my confession, he made frequent eye contact with Veronica and he smiled at her from time to time. He even made fishy faces—fishy faces! In the confessional!
I don’t know who was more surprised—Veronica or her mom! But those fishy faces served to put me at ease.
In the end, I knew that St. Joseph hadn’t simply answered my prayer. I didn’t “just make it through” in terms of getting to mass and confession.
I was overwhelmed by the kindness of a woman next to me in line. I saw St. Joseph’s sense of humor and creative care for my heart in my pastor’s the gentle words and actions. I could never have guessed the impact the most surprising and comical part of my confession would have. The fishy faces opened this distracted, anxious mother’s heart to the graces of the sacrament.
—Laura K. Thieman is a Catholic therapist and wife and mother of three young children.
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