It started with Ash Wednesday and ended with Baptism

It's still just so much to take in, to reflect upon, and to bask in.

Kelby and I got our ashes, and she promptly rubbed them on my shirt.  The only thing that was different from last year is this time I didn't stand there like a mute when Father Richard was asking me if I believed...I remembered my amen this time!

I didn't have as hard of a time with my sacrifice this year as I had in the past (yes, I've pretty much used the same one twice...and i've pretty much mastered it, so I'll need something more challenging for next year).  In one way or the other, my sacrifice for lent involves me not being a martyr, letting myself get walked all over, or botteling things up (so much in fact that it hurts me physically).

**I'm proud to say I'm past that** almost :) No one's perfect, right?

One thing that was very surprising was finding my own "prayer" style.  I have taken a few tests to try to determine what my prayer style is, but when I got the answer, I had no idea what it meant.  At St. Joe's, every friday in lent stations of the cross are celebrated.  I missed them all last year, and I was determined to make it to all of them this year.  The first one was particularly moving, because it was all out.  Father Richard led it, Sister Carmen played her flute, Donna played the part of Mary.  I was brought to tears at station 11, where Jesus is nailed to the cross.  What seemed like the ultimate sign of respect, Father Richard got down on his knees and asked the rest of us to get down on our knees.  It was heart-wrenching and I couldn't hold back my tears.  As a matter of fact, I had a pretty tough time with all of it.  Not only was I hearing this in its entirity for the first time, I was also hearing commentary from Mary's perspective as a helpless mother unable to protect her son from this fate...not only because there were scores of people and guards, but because Jesus himself told her it must be this way.

I immediately fell in love with this form of worship/prayer.  It made me feel good to be Catholic, it made me feel like a better mother, it put me more in touch with suffering as I've never known, and it made all the little things in my life that I loved to sit and brood about seem less than trivial...which made me ashamed of myself for holding on to such things (thinking eventually I'd figure out a way to make them better or justify why they happened, if I thought about them enough and replayed the events enough).

Well, I made it to 3 of the 6.  Not quite my goal, but equally refreshing.  During that time, I became one of the Elect, went through the 3 scrutinies, and practiced, and practiced, and practiced for Baptism.

No, this much practice isn't normally necessary, but a 3 year old isn't normally this involved in the process.  We practiced by ourselves one evening with Donna.  We practiced again, with Donna and Father Richard (while choir practice was going on with the extremely loud organ), and the morning of we practiced with our sponsors.

Everytime, Kelby was an absolute nut not paying very much attention, going off in her own direction.  I tried bribes and threats, neither of which worked very well.  So, I did the desperate mom thing and rationally thought that keeping her up late on friday would force her to sleep in on saturday...wrong, she was up at 4:30am right along side me as I was finishing up her white alb. Yep, I didn't get it finished until the morning of.

She did manage to fall asleep for a little bit while I was ironing.  I was crazy nervous.  I figured I'd forget to say my I do's at the right time, Kelby'd be running around like crazy, or I'd trip and fall coming out of the baptismal pool.  Turn's out it was all for nothing :)  There were too many people praying for us for anything crazy to happen!

The day turned out great.  We had a little get together for dinner at our house before we had to be there.  My cousin got us a wonderfully beautiful cake, and my husband got us some really nice gifts along with very thoughtful cards.  I think most if not all of my fears were quelled after dinner.  It was so nice to have so much support.

The night really went off without a hitch.  We were surrounded by friends and family, and all eyes were on us.  To be honest, the most moving part of the ceremony for me was the Liturgy of the Saints.  My favorite cantor was singing as me, kelby, and our sponsors followed behind Father Richard all around the church.  Not only did I feel like everyone in the church was praying for me, I felt this overwhelming pressure all around me.  Looking around the church, it seemed fuzzy.  I literally felt like heaven had decended into the rafters of St. Joe's.

I felt very proud of my decision to become Catholic while I was affirming my baptismal promises.  I'm not sure what I was expecting when I actually got into the baptismal pool.  I'm not sure what magical experience I was hoping for.  Father Richard kinda winked and asked me if I was ready (all with a look, not with words) and began baptising me.  More than anything, when I rose up out of the water I felt accepted.  I felt more pride than I ever thought I could when I affirmed that baptism is what I wanted for Kelby.  She did so well, she got right in, and Father Richard poured water on her head 3 times.  You could see in her eyes and facial features that she was proud of herself.

We received our baptismal candles and kelby was given her christening oil.  We then went and changed into our white garments, and I was confirmed with the name Teresa (of Avila).  I was also the very first person to receive communion, and that felt like I really sealed the deal.  Everything was real at that point.  I was really Catholic, I was really accepted, and I was really receiving the body of Christ (to help me along my journey for the rest of my life).

Mass ended, and one last time I walked past everyone smiling and waving and giving thumbs up.  I tried to meet as many people as I could just outside the doors, the rest I tried to greet at the reception they held in our honor.  It was just wonderful.  So many people stayed, brought gifts, and told me how proud of us they were and glad for us to be a part of their church community.

Kelby was stull running strong at 1:30am, and we both got up, dressed, and ready after 8am for 9am mass (we even brought her cousin with us).

There's much more to the story, little tid bits here and there...but I think you get the jist.  It was one of the most memorable times in my life.  I'm glad I made the decision all those years ago to call and ask about what it would take to join the church.  I have been and continue to be rewarded, and I couldn't be more thankful.