C'est fini

I am proud to say I finally became Catholic Saturday evening, April 15, 2006. The whole week leading up to this momentous occasion was filled with all types of religious stuff. Suffice it to say that, ya really had to want it in the end. And I really did.

Somewhere along the way, I started to buy in. All the studying and reading and thinking paid off. The big day itself was exciting, carrying almost the electrical charge of a graduation or a wedding. The ceremony on Holy Saturday was long, complicated and official (we had practiced it on three separate evenings). It started with a fire in a pit outside with the congregation forming a big procession with candles into the church. My Kid was enthralled (all boys are truly arsonists at heart). The big stars that evening were really the people getting baptized. White robes, incense, choirs of angels, fountain, small wading pool, tiny Bishop with a pitcher of water, and candles. All the elements of just a really good show.

Confirmation was pretty anticlimactic compared to the dunkings. A few short words and a blessing with scented oil on your forehead. Badda bing, badda bang. It's done! My sponsor, luckily, was with me every step of the way. "After the oil say Amen." "After peace be with you, say and also with you." "Bow!" Stuff like that. She had to introduce me to the Bishop by my Patron Saint's name which is also my Confirmation name. I had chosen Saint Lucy. Lucy lived in the 4th Century AD and had a troubled life, to say the least. She died a martyr. For various complicated reasons she is known as the patron saint of authors, the blind, eye trouble and writers.

My cousin called on Good Friday to wish me a Happy Confirmation. This cousin is a particularly good friend of mine. The death of her mother inspired my Catholic conversion. Her mother was my Godmother at my Catholic baptism. At her funeral the Priest gave an inspiring homily about the kind of life she lead and how she had contributed to the community and the church. In my Aunt's family, her husband, the doctor, was the one you typically heard about. My Aunt's exploits were relatively unknown. I also was selected to do the "First Reading" at the funeral. I really had no idea what was going on at all. So, sitting in a church pew in the Midwest in early June, I pretty much decided that: a) my Kid needed some kind of moral compass to survive the O.C.; b) my aunt would like him to be Catholic; and c) how can I expect him to do what I am unwilling to do. So, 4 days after my aunt's coffin was lowered into the ground, I found myself in Catholic RCIA class at a church in Newport Beach.

Anyway, to make a short story long, my cousin was congratulating me for the hard work I had put in. She knew that my initial step in this process was partially in honor of her mother.

"Now, when do you get confirmed?"
I told her Saturday.
"Saturday, April 15th?"
Yeah, Saturday.
"That's mom's birthday. She was actually born on Holy Saturday on April 15th."
We were both quiet.
I fittingly hummed the theme song to the Twilight Zone (respectfully, of course).

After the service Saturday night, there was a nice reception for the newly confirmed. Everyone was in a SUPER festive mood. We all congratulated each other, hugged, etc. Finally, when I had enough of the PDAs, I told my husband, sponsor and Kid "Let's get out of here." We had driven separately because my sponsor and I had to be an hour early.

Leaving the parking lot, my sponsor noticed I turned the wrong way. "Where are we going?" she asked. Apparently she had forgotten what I had given up for Lent. "To a bar," I replied. Let's get this party started.