I have a confession to make: Much to the dismay of my mother and grandmother I am not a good Catholic.
Like, at all.
Due to this fact, my children are confused (to say the least) about religion. We belong to a special branch of the Catholic Church called the “C and E Sector”…as in, we only go to church on C- Christmas and E-Easter.
The kids are baptized. Here's Carter at his Christening:
Ok, maybe all the other kids were infants and Carter was 24…but still…we got around to it.
See…proof that they don’t have original sin (just the sin they subsequently acquired by being little assholes)
Last year was the first time we thought the kids might be old enough to grasp the whole God concept. It was around Christmas time so we did a lot of talking about “Baby Jesus”.
When we went to mass that year Carter looked at all the images and statues of Jesus as an adult and was very confused. So he decided if that wasn’t “Baby Jesus” it must be “Big Jesus”. He then proceeded to shout that out every time he saw the adult version of Jesus…loudly.
“BIG JESUS! Mom, look, it’s BIG JESUS! BIG JESUS!”
It was like he was at a revival and was super into it, yelling the Lord’s name every five seconds.
Either that or he was Jesus’ homey and therefore entitled to use his street name:
“Yo! Big Jesus! Where you been, dog? You chillin’ at Mary’s crib again? What I tell ya about that girl, man? It’s a’ight Big J, we still cool.”
This week Carter was introduced to the concept of praying to St. Anthony.
If you’re unfamiliar with his story…well…so am I. He’s basically the Saint you pray to when you lose something. I have no idea why…but he sure does come in handy. And although I don’t exactly practice my religion I still keep that guy around cause, dude, he works.
I can often be found walking around my house saying: Something is lost and cannot be found, please St. Anthony help me look around.
A lot of stories in religion seem far-fetched but a dead saint who comes into your house and helps you find things? Now THAT I can get behind!
My mom is a big church goer and she insists that she is tight with St. A. So any time I lose something and tell her about it she says:
“Did you pray to St. Anthony? I’ll do it…call me back when you find it.”
This week we lost Grant’s special lovey. We all looked for two days. My mom came over, prayed to St. Anthony, lifted up one cushion and found him.
Naturally Carter thought this was the coolest trick ever. The next afternoon he couldn’t find a truck he was looking for:
“Can you call Nana and see if she’ll talk to that guy for me? Who is that guy anyway?”
I attempted to explain the concept behind the guy who finds things:
“Well, he’s someone who you ask for help when you misplace something and he helps you look.”
“Does he come to your house?”
“No. He just sends…he’s dead…well…no…he’s not dead…he’s…”
“He’s a ghost?”
Nice. Good job…he’s dead? WTF is coming out of my mouth right now!
“No, he’s a saint. He’s kind of like God.”
Oh for Christ’s sake!
“Like, Jesus. Remember Jesus? So, St. Anthony is just a God Jesus guy who is good at finding things.”
Did I just say he’s a “God Jesus guy”? That’s the best I could come up with? I’m totally f’ed.
“How does he help you find things? Does he use magic?”
Yup. You got it! St. Anthony is a dead, magic God Jesus guy. I think if you look it up that’s a very accurate description of him.
“Is he super good at finding things?”
“Ok, I’m gonna go hide something and see if he can tell me where it is.”
Yeah, alright, as if this conversation weren’t bad enough…let’s mess with the saints and test their skills. They should have performance reviews just like anyone else! You think you’re good at finding things, Tony? Prove it.
I think maybe next weekend we should squeeze church into our schedule…