Second Communion

Photo by lizbarlakphotography.com/

Tonight is one those nights where I truly write more for me than anyone else. I hope that others will be able to read and enjoy, but in the end, this is one of those things that I put down so I can remember later.

Last week, our daughter made her First Communion. I am not sure why it’s “made” rather than “take or took”. None the less, she made her First Communion. Now for those who are not that familiar with the Catholic faith, this is when a member of the church first receives the Body and Blood of Christ. This normally takes place at the end of second grade. It is a big first step for a young person as they move through the sacraments.

So last week, our little eight-year-old took a step in her faith. A young girl normally wears a simple white dress. Her Nana, remembering the old days, bought a veil to go with the dress. She looked beautiful. I saw a glimpse of the future to the how she will look if and when she decides to marry one day. If you ever want to see a Dad turn in to putty, let their little dress in this fashion and then have them come and take your hand. I looked at this little angel staring up at me and then looked down at the tiny little fingers that held my hand. Then add her quietly asking, “Daddy? Do I look pretty?” Pretty? That is not the word to describe how she looked. I just stood and stared.

Of course this moment was broken as she let go of my hand and started twirling and dancing around the room followed by jumping off the couch to make the skirt poof out. She is our little girl. She knows when to be quiet and beautiful and then how to bring laughter into the room. So with that off we went to the service.

We arrived early – very early. My wife was concerned with all of those that were coming that we would be able to all sit together. It was nice because it gave us time for some photos and quiet time in the church. Soon the others started to arrive. 34 in all, young men and women gathering in their finest. Moms, Dads, Grandparents, Aunts, and Uncles the families filled the church. It was nice seeing these young people, who only a week earlier in their t-shirts and shorts were running around, taking the service so seriously.

I had the good fortune of being a lector for this Mass. I had the chance to be more than a spectator. I also had the chance, due to an elderly mother with a walker and wife with a new knee, to sit in the front row which is reserved for the handicapped. When it came time for the actual communion, we were sitting a few inches from our daughter. Add to this the fact that her Godfather was a co-presider and the Mass turned out to be more than we could have expected or hoped for.

I was nervous for our daughter when the time came. She had been so excited for the last few weeks, I was fearful that she would drop the Host. She smiled as she stood next to me waiting her turn. It was not her normal smile. This smile had a huge amount of pride behind it. She knew that she was becoming a full member of the parish. She stepped forward but kept looking at her mother and I. When her turn came, she did just as practiced. I felt proud of her and myself. I kept it together. For some reason, the only time I almost lost it was when one the Matriarchs of the parish stepped next to me in line and placed her hand on my shoulder. She looked at me and the joy she showed almost made me get that dust in my eye. I think it was because we were able to be at our normal Mass where all of these older members have watched our daughter grow since 10 days old.

Of course after the service, one must celebrate. We gave our daughter a choice – she chose Gordon Biersch – a place she has been to almost as much as church. Family and friends gathered to eat and celebrate.

I sat there, that night, as the proud papa. I thought back to my First Communion. Quite frankly, I remember nothing about it. I remember the classes that led up to it, but not the actual day. I know that St. Bernard’s held a special Mass just for the students to be able to make their First Communion. I remember the priest like it was yesterday, Fr. Foley. I do know that our family also went out and celebrated. I actually had one of the munchkins from The Wizard of Oz serve me that day. He had long since left Hollywood and worked at one of our local restaurants. However, that, I think, is where the similarities end. I think this day meant much more to our daughter than it did for me.

The one thing that gets mentioned every year when we celebrate those receiving their First Communions is that this is the first of many. The priest normally makes a plea that we see all of these young faces again next week and the week after. The sad thing is that we may not see some of them until it is time for Confirmation. The priest talks to the kids and tells them that they are welcomed every day.

Our daughter took this to heart. I will say that while she was excited about last week, this week and going to church was much more exciting for her. I truly believe that she was counting the minutes until church this week. All she kept talking about was making her second communion. She kept asking when it was time to go. She really wanted to do it all over again. Though this she was looking forward to being able to do it with her parents. She positioned herself between us as we moved to the altar. She kept looking back at me showing me that no longer were her hands crossed over her chest – they were in prayer form ready to receive. She was more excited to receive it just like everyone else and not in a special format. Tonight she told me she was looking forward to her third.

So that was her special day. I write this one to share, yes, but more importantly to print out and put away for her for years from now. I want her to remember this day. I hope she can do it without my words, but they are here just in case.

Thank you for meandering with me.

Photo by lizbarlakphotography.com/