Yesterday I became a Godmother for the first time. My godson is named James and he is two months old and he is adorable. He didn't cry at all during the ceremony, which was really fun and I'll tell you about that in a bit. He is the son of one of my best friends in the whole world, who I have known since 9th grade, who was instrumental in me becoming Catholic. This is her fourth child.
I have a little bit of an unusual history as far as religion goes. I was raised in a household that was 1/2 Southern Baptist and 1/2 Episcopalian, and therefore we were.....nothing? We had a book of children's bible stories, and learned the basics; my mother was careful to teach us the Christian meaning behind Christmas and Easter, and that is what we celebrated first and foremost, despite Santa and the Easter Bunny. We never went to church, though, unless someone else got married or christened. My mother's was the first funeral I ever attended, so we never even had exposure to that.
A few years after my mother died, I began to get my head together, and realized that I was missing something, and I decided that participating in an organized religion was it. So I went to church. Lots of church, different churches. I went with friends (never had the guts to just go by myself). The place I felt most at home was in the Catholic church. I remember the first time I went, when they got to the part of the Mass where they do the intercessions to the saints and they prayed for all those who had died, I just stood there with tears streaming down my face, not making a sound, but crying. A woman I didn't know and had never seen before reached out and took my hand, and just silently held it; nothing more, no questions about why I was crying or trying to get to anything deeper. Just held it. That had a profound effect on me. I also liked the ritual and the familiarity - that no matter where I went, whenever, Mass was the same and I was always welcome and comfortable. That is where I felt called to be. I had some concerns because I don't necessarily agree with some parts of the Catholic church, but I realized I had problems with every organized religion out there in one way or another, and the Catholic church was really where I felt called to be. So in college, I decided to convert, though really, if you're nothing anyway, convert isn't really the right word - adopt, maybe. I adopted Catholicism. I was Baptized, Confirmed, and received First Holy Communion in 1989.
Fast forward a few years, I meet BigDaddyFish. He was raised Methodist, but doesn't practice it. He has a major problem with organized religion as a whole; he feels it is primarily a political instrument to control the ignorant masses who aren't smart enough to control themselves (I see his point to a certain extent; don't agree with him, but see how he got there). He believes in God mostly (he has an element of the agnostic to him), but isn't too sure about Christ being the Son of God, so until he feels convinced, he doesn't practice any religion. I'm good with that. We each respect the right of the other to believe and practice as we choose, without trying to "convert" the other one. I openly practice my religion, I raise the kids Catholic, and while I would love it if he would participate with us, for me it has to come from his heart, because he wants it and believes it, not because it would make me happy. So for now, this means he comes along for the ride when we have special ceremonies (he participated in the kids' baptisms), but mostly he just helps control the kids.
Because of this, we have no Catholic family members, so no aunts and uncles who would be making us godparents to their kids. My friend is Little Man's Godmother, and her DH is Godfather to all three of my children. It is difficult for us because we don't know many practicing Catholics who we are close enough to for us to ask that they be our kids' godparents. I still don't know what to do about our latest addition. We can have one godparent who is not catholic, as long as they are baptized in another Christian faith (this is how our parish does things; I know other parishes have different rules, but this is what we have). Trout's Godmother is my friend's twin sister, who married a wonderful man who is Jewish, but neither of them practice their respective religions, for the most part. Sunny's Godmother is one of my cousins - she is Nazarene. I love how our family is a great example of tolerance and openness and love, no matter what. My friend's family IS catholic, so I was very very surprised when she asked me to be James' Godmother, because there is an abundance of aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. who I would think would be chosen for this before I would. This is a huge, ginormous honor to me.
So yesterday, we trooped up to my friend's church to attend their Mass and to have James baptized. They offer a children's liturgy, so the big kids went with their friends to that (like Sunday school, of sorts), while Sunny sat with BigDaddyFish a couple of pews back from me. The Godfather and I sat with James' family in the front pew. I love their church. Mostly because of their priest. He is on the younger side, probably his early 40's or so, and he so clearly loves his job it's infectious. He is probably the most down-to-earth, real-world, "normal" person priest I have ever seen. He takes his job seriously, but not too seriously; he isn't stern and formal like a lot of priests I have seen. I think he does a great job reaching people and bringing the faith to people because of that. This was the second time we'd seen him (the first being James' older sister's first communion this past spring), and both times BigDaddyFish commented on how good he was, how he wouldn't mind going to church and participating if we lived in that parish, solely because of this priest. That's how cool this guy is.
Right after part of the Mass (a regular part, not something specific to the baptism), the choir had been singing, and then got soft while the priest returned to his seat and said some silent prayers. Right after it got quiet I hear "Seven, eight, nine, ten!" in a rather loud, two-year-old voice coming from two pews behind me. Sunny. It is a smaller church and every one heard. I kind of hung my head down, turning red with embarrassment, when we all hear "eleven!" come over the sound system.
From the priest.
Everyone, including the priest, had a good chuckle - it was fun, and funny. That's the kind of guy he is. In my home parish and a lot of parishes I've been to we would have gotten the "death stare" from the priest and several of the parishoners - none of that there. It was wonderful. After the Mass I was holding Sunny for her to get her "mommy recharge" and introduced her to the priest as "Seven, eight, nine, ten." He smiled, gave her a big hug, and said "Eleven!" (Later BDF told me he was trying to distract her because she kept asking for me, so was having her count his fingers.)
What a wonderful Catholic community to give such a warm welcome to its newest member, baby James. He will be happy there, I think.
And if anyone has a tips for me on how to be a good Godmother, let me know, because I don't have a clue what I'm doing.
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