Mommy Tales

In God we trust. But does this necessarily include the Church we’re part of?
This is the right season of the year for a Christian (like me) to reconsider religious decisions. (Well, it actually HAS BEEN when I started to write this entry, but that was ages ago, BEFORE weeks full of illness and injuries and did I already mention, illness and injured baby-kids? So, now it may be a little late for Christmas thoughts but I will finally publish this post nevertheless!)

Raised in a formal catholic parents’ house I was christened under the Catholic church and, at the age of 9 (when one of course already knows everything about life and therefor is able to make rational decisions as far as faith is concerned) I went to my first holy Communion, wearing one of those nice white dresses and propped up like a little bride. Well, it was a great festivity and I got a lot of presents. Also, I managed to eat approx. 5 pieces of cream gateau. And lots of yummy stuff I usually couldn’t lay my fingers on. But that deep connection with God – honestly that isn’t a thing I can remember right now.

This belly contains a f* lot of cream gateau!

As every christened (and due to a lack of teachers a lot of atheistic) kid I took religious classes at school. Well, it was sometimes interesting, sometimes not. As everything at school. When I above mentioned a ‘formal’ catholic parents’ house I meant we were never practising any Christian rituals. We celebrated Christmas, of course and never ate meat on Good Friday. We also never went to church. Or prayed. But all formal things would’ve been fulfilled and we knew to pray the Lord’s Prayer (although I maybe learned that at school).

When I grew older I had a Protestant friend. Slowly I found out that the Protestants discussed very interesting themes at school while I often listened to rather boring stuff. Well, that was my insight then. Sometimes I went to Protestant church with my friend and I liked it very much. It was a rather small commune, kind of familiar and there weren’t so many stiff rituals that had to be celebrated. On the other hand the songs there were rather modern. Well, I liked it but never had the strength to convert (you know, to be ‘correct’ in the formal way has been of high value for my parents and we lived in a community where the majority was Catholic)… until I finally got a proposal from my will-be-and-now-is-husband who is a Protestant. Soon the decision was made that the nice Protestant priest should perform the wedding and also I decided to convert to the Protestants because I liked the idea of one faith within my little family. My daughter was automatically allocated with me, though christened by a Catholic priest.

Well, seems like everything turned out the good way. Everything? Hmm… until we moved and are now living in another community. Guess what. I don’t like the Protestant priest here. At all. It’s really unfortunate. Of all communities around here we HAD to move to the only one where the Protestant priest is more conservative than every other clerical person I met before.

I’m not sure why my dislike of this man has grown so large. Call it a hunch. My stomach definitely says ‘no’ whenever I’m considering something, anything at all where this man should be included. So my second daughter, Johanna, was christened in the neighbourhood where I was born. A really nice celebration, there. The service was arranged in teamwork with the local protestant kindergarten. There was laughter and cute tiny voices whispering some unknown words into a micro. Nobody would feel disturbed by a crying toddler under such welcoming circumstances. It’s not that I did not try to involve our local priest first. I think I didn’t dislike him before we talked about Johanna’s christening. Honestly, that man suggested for me to leave the service should the child begin to cry because the community could feel disturbed. Huh. What a lovely way for a community to welcome new members. Yeah, well, come and join us, whatever. As long as you stay put and keep your mouth shut. No crying allowed here. No giggling either. That was the message I got and since then I’m collecting evidence to support my first impression.

As this priest is also teaching Johanna in elementary school there has been much evidence to collect. He never had a chance to make a second impression. I couldn’t convince myself so far to anything but to avoid him. That’s what my stomach demands me to do. When our youngest, Emily, had to be christened, I never even had to consider if I should give the local man a try. That was completely out of question. We had a good enough reason to choose another place also, because my husband’s father was very ill then so we wanted the service to be held in the village where he lived. Otherwise he and his wife couldn’t have been members of the party.

So far, my strategy of avoiding did work out. But I’m not satisfied. Because I’d like to give my kids the opportunity to build their own relationship with God. Everyone needs something he or she can believe in. And it’s for sure no bad thing if your kids can grow up with the knowledge of where the local traditions come frome. Why do we celebrate Christmas? And why should I work for free when the money is meant to support social projects? Also, I think it’s only fair for them if they roughly know what’s the core of Christianity. One day it’s confirmation day. And I would like them to know until then if they would like to give it a try. But as my connection to God is something deep inside my mind and we’re not displaying religious rituals within our allday routine I for sure am not able to show them the essentials. I’d like to introduce them a community where they are included and welcome. Where they can loose some of their fears and trust each other. Yeah, right. I’ll tell you if I someday find such an utopia in real life. But, hey, the church is supposed to be so. And at least you can sing loud there without hitting the right notes and nobody’s gaze will smash your confidence.

What shall I do? My eldest one has confirmation the day after tomorrow. We’re preparing like hell. Ah. Heaven. She went to church nearly every Sunday almost a complete year long. You can count the times I accompanied her using your thumbs. And you would have one hand free. She’s doing a great job but she’s not very happy with our priest neither. On Christmas we had a really strange situation. She had to go to (Protestant) church. I wanted to go to (nice) church. I considered visiting the service of the neighboring village. But driving by car while surrounded by ice and snow and when several churches can be reached by foot? Not likely. So I went to the Catholics. They have a nice play on Christmas Eve, including kids and a lot of noise. My husband stayed at home and prepared the meal. He has no affinity to church. Neither Protestant nor Catholic. The lucky one.

'Hey there, daddy. Just teach me how to prepare a decent meal and I'll stay home with you on Christmas Eve.' 'Give me five and we have a deal, cutey.'

Yet on this year’s Easter, I attended a local Protestant service especially designed for families. It wasn’t that bad. Maybe I can finally find my peace with our priest. Step by step. Slooooow. Maybe he will get transferred some day…

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