Don’t Have A Cow; Be A Cow!

, , , , , , | Related | December 24, 2018

(While my mom is very pretty, she does have a much smaller frame than I do. This conversation occurs as we are dressing up for a pantomime-style play of the Christian Christmas story at our church.)

Mom: “I’ll be a ram.”

Me: “I’ll be a cow; I have the chest for it.”

(Mom started laughing.)

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This Church Is Grassroots

, , , , , , | Related | December 13, 2018

My family lives right down the street from a large church, which we pass on our way to our own church, school, and the store where we shop; basically, we pass it pretty much every day.

When I was in grade school, the church began a large expansion project to add a new wing onto the building. They dug a large hole in the ground next to the building, which I figured was going to be the basement for the new wing. Every day when I passed by the church, either in the car or the school bus, I would look at the hole to see if they had started building the new wing in it yet. Several months went by, and I saw nothing — still just a hole in the ground, even though there seemed to be workers there every day.

One day, while I was riding in the car with my mom, I said to her, “They still haven’t started building that new church yet!” And she responded, “Yes, they have; what do you call that?” She pointed to the side of the church opposite from the hole… where the new wing stood, completely finished.

Yes, that’s right: I had been so distracted looking at the hole every time I passed the church that I had completely missed the new wing going up right before my eyes. It turns out that the hole was actually just a large drainage ditch, which they just happened to be digging at the same time the construction was going on. In hindsight, I should have been clued in by the fact that they had spread grass seed in the hole, but my only thought upon noticing that was, “Why do they want grass in the basement?”

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Baptism Of Fire

, , , , | Related | November 2, 2018

My husband and I are getting ourselves and our son ready to go to our nephew’s baptism. We tell our three-year-old, who has a language and social delay, that we are going to a place where we need to be quiet and use a calm voice while there. Our son looks at us and smiles, before screaming at the top of his lungs for four minutes.

While in the car, we reiterate the quiet and calm voice thing a few times, with somewhat better results. When we get to the church, our son is the first kid inside. The priest looks at him and tells him, “We walk in church.” Our son looks at him and bolts down the aisle, screaming happily.

As the nephew being baptised is on my husband’s side of the family, I quickly exit the church with my apparent demon-spawn in tow, and we spend the entire baptism playing on the playground nearby.

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The Blood Of Jesus: Now In Cartons!

, , , , , | Related | October 25, 2018

(I grew up in a Catholic family, and while I don’t attend church as regularly anymore, I do still enjoy a good Bible study, worship service, or chance to do charitable work. My parents and I also tend to make jokes in serious situations. My cousin is making her confirmation, and my father is her sponsor, so my mom and I are sitting on the other side of the pew. During the homily, the monsignor mentions that after mass the newly-confirmed will go next door to receive their certificates and a gift. I whisper to my mom, wondering what the gift is.)

Me: “Do you think it’s a Bible?”

Mom: “Could be. Or a rosary.”

Me: “Or champagne. Congrats, you got confirmed!”

Mom: “Yeahhhhh, no. The church isn’t going to do that.”

Me: “Or a nice bottle of red wine, so you can have the blood of Jesus anytime.”

Mom: *gasp* “What?”

Me: “Am I going to Hell?”

Mom: “We probably all are… Actually, you know what? That’s not up to us. Only God can judge you.”

Me: “But probably?”

Mom: “Yeah, probably.”

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This Child Is Going Places

, , | Friendly | October 19, 2018

(For Mothers’ Day, the children are doing a craft for a woman in their lives: homemade body scrub. It is just sugar, cooking oil, and a little food colouring, in a glass jar with a bit of waxed paper and a ribbon. Of course, the intent is that the children will take them home and present them to a mum, nana, auntie, etc. At the end of church, I have virtually the same conversation with three or four of my son’s friends, ages four to six.)

Child: “Look what I made!”

Me: “Oh, wow! That’s so cool! What are you going to do with it?”

Child: “EAT IT!”

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