Lots of moms teach their daughters many things. How to paint your nails. How to make potato salad. How to get-eight-and-a-half-million-things-done-while-a-baby-is-napping. You know the stuff…
My mom taught me those things, and one more. She taught me how to be Catholic.
Catholicism is filled with many things. It’s a rich tradition that sometimes looks like the underside of a very complicated needlepoint cushion. There’s a lot of messy threads there, and you’re not sure where they all lead to on the right side, but oh my goodness, that’s an awful nice place just to put your bum!
There was no jewjaw she wouldn’t buy me. Rosary? Check. Prayer book? Check. Scapular? Check. Holy cards? Check.
One of my very first memories of being specifically with my mom is going to daily Mass. I don’t remember her holding my brother, so I know I was very, very small (like maybe three years old!). The only thing I do remember is going to Holy Communion with her, and we knelt on the cold marble altar railing, piously folding our hands, and then I looked up, and realized I could see my reflection in the bottom of the shiny gold paten that the altar boy held under my mommy’s face in case the Host fell (which it didn’t).
Train up a child in the way [she] should go: and when [she] is old, [she] will not depart from it. (Prov. 22:6]
What’s Five Minute Friday?
A blog-prompt project dreamt up by LisaJo Baker, which you can read about here. The skinny is that you spend five minutes of writing, generally unedited (I correct typos, WAY too OCD not to do that, and set up links), on a prompt that she provides just after midnight via a tweet, then spread the word, and link up. Interested? Join up. Check it out.