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.