It has been quite a day. I wonder if a "month of Sundays" can be inversed? As in "a Sunday that seemed like months"? Today Kieran made his First Holy Communion. That's the very good news. In fact it overshadows the rest by far. For months he has been preparing with the Sisters and at home. Today was the big day. I believe he was ready. His mother – not so much. That would be the less good news.
We have been pow-wow-ing with the other five families for a couple weeks now to be certain everything was just right. We tracked down the elusive (ok not elusive as a rule, but definitely elusive in May) white ties. We agreed upon blue suits (more on that later). We arranged for white roses for the lapels. Cake was ordered. Potluck dishes decided upon. Since it is also May, and it was our turn, we stopped at the store last night for flowers for the procession. This, after the end-of-year Boy Scout picnic. Little people were scrubbed clean and clothes were laid out.
I think I may actually have congratulated myself as we fell into bed last night on how well all the bases covered. I think I may have tempted fate right then.
This morning was all quiet productivity. Ironing was finished. Kids fed. Potluck dishes wrapped and stacked. I went upstairs for one last thing and returned to find them all in the van. Glancing at the now cleared island I joined them. There was the first mistake. With us approaching the church someone piped up and said, "Hey, did we bring the flowers?" Silence.
Allen unloaded the kids and Colin and I ran to the local Walmart for more flowers without stopping inside first. Second mistake. I got the flowers, a vase, and extra paper plates and cups for the potluck just in case. Flying out to the van I opened the back door to toss things inside. I thought twice however because the wheelchair was there and it seemed like the vase was safer up front. I shut the back van door and left the cart to bring the vase to Colin. Off we go. Third mistake.
About 3/4 of the way back to the church it hit me. My purse. My purse was not there. Why? Because in that split second while I was thinking about breaking the vase and changed up the bag location I had left my purse in the cart. With my phone. But we were closer to church and running very late so I just kept going, Colin breaking rose stems down to fit in the new – but hey, unbroken! – vase. Flowers in hand I ran into the vestibule, noticing the children lining up on the steps. Noticing the suits. Black. I search my mind trying to remember how the suit color conversation had ended, certain it had ended with "blue". My musing interrupted as a friend says, "Oh. Were you planning on Kieran taking those flowers up today?" Apparently there had been a change and another little girl was scheduled. Somehow the message hadn't gotten to us that we didn't need the flowers. Deep breath.
With a pit in my stomach I found my husband and told him I was heading back to Walmart. He took Colin and Abbie and I headed out again. However, the cart was gone and the purse had not been turned in. No surprise really but hope reigns eternal, you know? I left my information with customer service and made the return trip to church to find them already in progress. Sigh. I slipped into the pew, met Allen's eyes and shook my head, no. He slipped out of the pew, cell phone in hand, to begin canceling credit cards and such.
Little ones just sorta know when you are strung out. Brendan and Tess were in rare form, not really grumpy but rather just ramped up. Brendan was busy and Tess was glued to "her Abbie" who was less than thrilled to be glued to our girl Tess. The choir was right behind us, sounding like angels. On any other Sunday I would have literally rejoiced to hear them. Today I was totally overstimulated, so wishing any number of things hadn't happened the way they did. I thought surely it had to be wrong. My purse must be in the van. I went out to check, little people in tow, but no.
We paraded back to the pew and sat down only to realize Abbie had a diaper disaster. Tess and I made our way back out of the church to the restroom, leaving Aidan in charge of Brendan. I am not sure what number mistake I am on at this point, but just tack this one to the list. Abbie, clean and dry, the three of us return to the pew yet again and Allen followed soon after. Brendan looked up to no good as Allen and I divvied up little people. Tess reattached herself to Abbie prompting a howl of dismay. It was then I heard a throat clear behind me. We have such dear friends at church and know every single one of them. I truly don't think anyone was suggesting we get outta Dodge but honestly, it seemed unfair to inflict this calisthenic embarrassment on them any longer. With strength heretofore unknown to me I made my final exit – one girl in each arm, no doubt every bit as obtrusively as it felt.
We didn't attempt to reenter this time. We sat in Mommy time out in the empty choir practice room, listening to the rain that is now falling, me thinking that Tess could use a hug. Then, thinking that *I* really needed one. My mind ran over the past months, the past hours. So much I don't understand. This time though, I don't try. It isn't important that I understand. Only that I trust. I sit in the dark room with my baby girls and this time I am not fighting God. I am just trusting that somehow it is all unfolding exactly as He wills it despite indications to the contrary. I remember a sign I saw while window shopping that read, "Faith is not thinking God can, it is knowing that He will."
I quiet my babies and quiet myself and open the swinging wooden doors just enough to watch Kieran process with his classmates behind Sister. The beauty of it all takes my breath away and I choke back tears – happy tears, sad tears, wondering tears. The words I typed yesterday come back to me. All the questions have the same answer – and it is God. And Kieran knows this right now. I know it.
People file out with hearty congratulations. The rain has stopped. One woman commends Aidan for his calm response to Brendan pummeling him as he attempted to engage him in a wrestling match during our diaper change. (I told you he looked up to no good, did I not?) I tell her thank you – I think. It is much like the response I give to God. Thank you. I think.
And now the house is quiet. The potluck is over. Asher has driven Colin home. I hear hushed music on the tv in the back room and the washing machine humming nearby. Babies are sleeping. I should do that. Sleep. But for just one more minute I look at this happy face and remember what it's all about. God bless you, Kieran.
Starry Sky Journal 