Shared Tears

My

Crissima and Prima Communione sacrament was full of memories that will stay with me. It was an experience that was a mixture of emotions. I am blessed by friends of a culture that has a great vocabulary to express that this was an emotional time. But I did not expect to feel the range of emotions from sacred joy to feeling out of place. In Protestant tradition there are 2 sacraments, baptism and communion, in Catholicism 10, including the two I partook of in just one day. Which of course meant it would be an emotional day.

As I prepared for the day and arrived in the Piazza it was great to see a mix of people, from different groups, the ladies of the piazza, the church, as well as my sweet friend Martina, the daughter of the waiter at the restaurant. We took pictures and I realized the ladies of the church would not be joining us as we drove to the big city of Perugia for the sacraments during worship at the University Church. I had prepared for the sacraments for 6 weeks under the watchful soul of Don Alio the rector of the church, editor for the Umbrian Catholic newspaper, “La Voce”, and head of the Ecumenical center. But as we drove away from Piegaro and I waved goodbye to the ladies of the church, it felt like a leaving from HOME, where the heart is. Although so moved by the support of my friends, it was hard to leave home for a different church for this auspicious moment.

It was truly a blessing to have many ladies joining us on this spiritual adventure, the ladies of the piazza who have been so wonderfully supportive in my learning of l’italiano and my joining the Catholic faith. Yet, they are not the ladies I attend daily mass with. They are not the familiar faces from Sunday’s noon service with its great group of young people singing, not even the faces of the procesioni of Easter, Holy week, or the Day of Miracles. Beautiful Christian souls, yes, but not part of the group that formed my faith here in Piegaro, yet here they were in this new chapter, on its opening page. My feelings were mixed and confused as we drove away.

A simple description of the University Church is that it is a grandiose structure with an unfortunate dome leak that means inside the church there is a large box of compressed wood product, to keep people away from falling water or debris from the roof. But it is huge, and at one time in a point of less faith had been converted into a Masonic Hall. Now it is a mixed bag of imagery, from large statues of law educators looking down from the walls, to paintings depicting royalty with merchants, to smaller beautiful mosaic icons with a sprinkling of religious posters. It feels like a campus ministry building almost anywhere, a building that has functioned for other purposes while maintaining an aura of education and advancement in society about it (and always the undertone of religion, even when serving secular purposes!).

But the greatest surprise of the day was my dear friend Martina’s response to sitting in this church, here in the company of women that she knew, but not well (quite similar to my own experience). She erupted into tears, when I asked why, she said the only time she had been in a church was for her grandmother’s funeral. This all reminded her of the funeral, but more importantly the grandmother she loved and missed. As she poured out her love, tears and words I had the opportunity to tell her that my first time to church was also my grandmother’s funeral, I felt a special bond to this sweet girl. I with her that I had always prayed in my life, even as a small child, but did not know others prayed until the funeral, and how important it was for me, and that I had gone to church ever since. We spent dear and precious time in embrace before the service.

This return to the Catholic faith for me was huge, it was a return to the faith of my family, and here was dear, sweet Martina embodying the importance of this return. Here were the ladies of the piazza, those who I loved, but were not part of my spiritual life, much as my 6 aunts at grandma’s funeral, sharing this sacred moment. It was a blessed coming full circle.

The greatest blessing of all was Martina, reminding me of the faith of my youth, the faith that sustains. Jesus spoke of the faith of children, and it is so beautifully pure that to share tears of joy, tears of remembering, tears of lost love with this sweet, dear girl was the greatest gift in this sacramental day. She was a beautiful reminder of the tears of joys shed for the love of God, love of neighbor, and the reception of love of others….the greatest blessings in life! For all the emotions of this day, the greatest was the gift of love and sharing love, love for grandmas, for God, and for friends.

What stories of childhood faith spill into your life of faith now?
How has your relationship with God changed, and remained the same over the years?
What special people have surprised you with grace in times of emotional and spiritual upheaval?