So, if there's one thing I have learned from my childhood filled with CCD, it's to promptly baptise your child. If you don't promptly baptise the child, and god forbid something happens to it, the baby won't go to Heaven, or to Hell, but to a weird in between. Forever. FOREVER! That's a really long time to be stuck in the middle of noplace.
Now, this might not actually be the case, and really, it probably isn't what I was supposed to learn in CCD, I most likely have it twisted around backwards, but it's what stuck in my mind, and that, of course, makes it true. And so, with this little tidbit of knowledge stashed in the "Ridiculous Fears" section of my brain, I have been giving a great deal of thought to this baby's baptism. The when's and the where's are rapidly becoming loose plans.
Loose plans can only become solid plans once things fall into place. And things falling into place involve me phoning the Church.
Again, this belongs in the "Ridiculous Fears" section of my brain.
I am terrified to call Church. For some reason, I have this fear that God himself will answer, and the conversation will commence as follows:
GOD- "Hello, Church, God speaking."
ME- ". . ."
GOD- "I know you're there. *ahem* Hello, Church, God speaking."
and then in a haphazard panic I would slam the phone down. I would hang up on God. But really, if that did happen, what would you say to God? Think about it.
In reality, a little woman who sounds like she is no less than 96 years old answers the phone at Church, and you have to repeat everything exactly 478 times, each time louder than the next before she understands what you're talking about. Today, when I called church, the 96 year old woman was named Mary Barbara (isn't that quaint?) and she tried to answer my questions, but couldn't.
"I'll have to have Monseigneur call you back, dear," she said. "What number can you be reached at?"
Instantly, a cold sweat broke on my brow and the hairs on my arms stood up. Have him call me back? In the words of Lauren - That's like giving God your phone number. It's DIRECT ACCESS!
I tried to stammer that I would be calling him back instead, trying to use the guise that it was a toll call, and I wouldn't want the Church to incur the charges, but she persisted.
And that's how God got my phone number.
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5 comments:
well, if the big man DOES call you, would you please give him my cell phone number? i have quite the long list of topics to bring up with him, now that i think about it.
and i swear i'm Catholic, and i swear i went to Catholic school and all, but what on earth is a "Monseigneur"? you were abreviating it in an email to me and i coudn't figure it out. sounds like french to me. and way too masculine.
but as this post had nothing to do with women in the church, i'll refrain for the time being.
:)
I swear i'm catholic too, and CCD educated, but I don't know exactly what a monseigneur is. But it's what we call the head priest at st. berndette's lol
So, wait, you have an objection to "monseigneur" because it's too masculine, but "father" is okay? :)
you never said anything about "father", just monseigneur, which is frighteningly close to monsieur...the french word for "sir".
and i like my father, so that word only makes me happy. plus we have "mothers" in the church. hel-LO, mother MARY??? ;)
so...that's the head preist, huh? curious. i wonder if we just never had any of those or if this is just another jersey thing.. jk. or maybe they are all crochety and old like this one was (is?) so the church tries to keep them behind the scenes.
i'd ask the boards about this if i wasn't so afraid of being flattened by the replies. or maybe struck down...lol...
I'll ask. I'm always in trouble anyway. Pretty soon I'm going to have my own time out corner.
i wonder how many times they can ban you? i'm still ticked off they did that in the first place. stupid girls. it makes me want to put something outrageous on my blog and link them all to it so they can be all in a twitch again. maybe if we do it enough we'll desensitize them or something. crazies.
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