God Bless Us, Everyone

All the catechists stand looking pious near the stage (The gym doubles as an auditorium – and when it does, we are all asked to share our talent for restacking chairs against the walls before leaving the pageant, or devotion, or parent meeting.)

The children are antsy and looking around anxiously for their rescue parents and it is growing louder in spite of Madame Church Lady’s attempts to shush them.

Even though we have just said our closing prayer, we must remain while one final blessing is bestowed upon us all before we dash out to enjoy a week of debauchery and idol worship.

I am standing next to a mother whose demeanor and breath sounds are not unlike a bull that is viciously anticipating goring an arrogant matador.

She church whispers, “This should have been done by now,” and then widens her eyes in disbelief when, after the Amens have been mumbled and we have all Father, Son and Holy Ghosted ourselves one more time, Madame Church Lady begins to remind the children of a few gravely important, last minute things:

- To bring peanut butter or jelly or both to the food drive for the children who don’t have all the gifts we regularly enjoy.
- To remind their (heathen) Confirmation sponsors that their letters and eligibility forms are due
- That October is Respect for Life Month (so don’t go scheduling any abortions!)
- Blah blah blah blah blah. Yakkety yakkety yakkety.

And all the while the children and their agitated parents are thinking:

- I missing Dancing with the Stars.
- I still have to finish my science project
- I have hours of laundry folding and lunch packing to complete
- I am going to pee my pants if we don’t get out of here soon

And then, unable to tolerate even one more sweetly enunciated syllable, the bull-like lady finally comes untethered from her moorings and stomps over to where her child is fidgeting with the contents of his RES folder, grabs him by the sleeve of his jacket, spins defiantly and ushers him out the back door to the parking lot.

I am shocked that some volunteer posse of RES police do not attempt to detain her while Madame Church Lady prattles the last remaining comments about some approaching feast day for St. John the Dwarf.

But human nature is what it is, and once one kid has gone over the wall, there is nothing to stop the others.

It is pandemonium as children race about the gym to find their reconnaissance parent.
And in our effort to avoid eye contact with the catechists who are shaking their heads and clucking in “they know not what they do” superiority, we bolt for the doors to get in our car.

And there, friends, is where the real fun begins.