Gosh, I love this feast day, don’t you? It’s one of those feasts where I try really, really hard to get to Mass, even if it means waking the kids up at 6:30 to make it out the door by 7:00.
(I had made them waffles with blackberry jam, as per Jessica’s recommendation, and that lessened the sting considerably.)
Except that that George of mine didn’t want no waffles. It had to be ba-bahs and nothin’ else. Have you ever tried to hurriedly nurse? It doesn’t work. “George,” I said, “Don’t you want to go to Mass?” He eyed me lazily and didn’t respond. “George,” I continued. “Jesus is waiting for you! He’s saying, ‘Where oh where is that little NiNi?’”
At this George pulled away with an audible schlorp. “Home,” he said, offering an answer to Jesus, and grinning, he patted my chest with one hand. “Ba-bahs.”
When we got to Mass, I told Joe that he could choose our seats. He is, after all, named after one of the archangels. “Just don’t make it the last row,” I cautioned, and it wasn’t…but it was on the left side of the church and we never ever sit on the left side of the church.
I tried very hard not to let this bug me, though it did mess a bit with my “special feast day” karma.
An older gentleman (the lector) approached us and asked if we could bring up the gifts. I knew George wouldn’t tolerate my leaving the pew, so I asked my three oldest if they would do it. (I’ll admit that I felt just a wee bit prideful of my two young men in their school uniforms.) The three of them performed their task suitably, except…except…they forgot to bow to the altar when they were done.
I found myself wanting to go all James-and-John’s-Mom on the congregation. “They know to bow to the altar before returning to their seats! They know this!”
But I didn’t yell anything.
I showed restraint.
And then we dropped off the boys at their school and went home, where I planned to make tea and read them our Father Lovasik book on the angels. Of course I couldn’t find it, but rather than spend the whole day searching—been there, done that—I decided to think outside the box. I went to Seton’s website where they sell this book and clicked on the “look inside this book” option.
Together we read the five pages they previewed, and that, my friend, had to be good enough.
Now we are off to buy the fixins’ for dinner—on this cold, windy day we are heading out—and are stopping by Caribou for a pumpkin latte because—Did you hear me? It’s a feast day!
Love those angels, owe them lots. Got many an angel story in my arsenal.