Reception

It was a long time coming, and it was good. It happened in a way that I didn't expect, all those years thinking of Easter entrances, but it was full of significance.

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We were received into the Church on St. Patrick's Day. Our priest, Fr. Drew, had secured permission from the Bishop to let us in whenever it was mutually convenient, and we had thought to join earlier, but comps, Christmas and a baby kept us from focusing on it. So, we decided that a private mass, at a time that worked for our sponsors, would be best. We didn't see much reason to put it off until Easter. And it reminded me of my Irish Catholic Grandfather and Nana (not Irish, but Catholic.) Then Matt and Ruthie wanted to visit during Matt's spring break, and when they found out about our plans, they arranged to come at the start of his break, rather than the end.

I am so glad they did.

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Ruthie noted that the Newman Center was at 211 Dithridge St. (a number significant to the Wrights.)

We were in a tiny chapel, at the basement of the Newman Center, surrounded by our close friends, family and all their children. The mass was offered for our intentions--and we named my dad. We received the rites of Confirmation and Communion from Fr. Drew and Fr. Mike.


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The moment of communion was not an overpowering mountaintop moment. (I rather expected something--especially when I felt a real sense of peace, that I was not expecting, during my first confession the week before.) But it's okay; I know that Jesus was really present, and that life with Him does not always consist of mountaintop experiences. I'm so glad I get to pursue Him here.

After we were confirmed and given congratulatory hugs from everyone, the little chapel grew quiet, and Gracie asked, as she is wont to do, "What happened?" :)

Our sweet friends gave us cake and punch and a crucifix after the mass. And then sweet Ruthie made us a feast for dinner. I was reminded of the first time, six years ago, that she made the St. Patrick's Day feast. And I am so thankful for God's grace. His grace led us gently, slowly to this new place, and He kept and strengthened the ties to our family. I am so thankful for my family, and for their commitment to me. And for jokes about "skinny dipping in the Tiber."


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I learned on Sunday, when David and I attended our first mass as Catholics, that the 18th was Laetare Sunday--"Rejoice" Sunday. If we were going to join during the most penitential season in the church, this weekend was the time to do it.


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"Hi Catholic wife," David says to me now.