Lucia's First Communion
On Sunday, May 6, Lucia made her First Communion. She'd been looking forward to this event for months, ever since starting her second year of CCD, the year when second-graders make both First Confession and First Communion. Over President's Day in Connellsville, Lucia, my mom, and I went to the little kids' clothing boutique in town and let Lucia choose a Communion dress. She was over the moon about the one she found--poofy, lacy, with buttons all the way down the back. She was also over the moon about her white patent-leather shoes, which had a small heel (not my first choice--but it's nearly impossible to find dressy girls' shoes without small heels these days); her sparkly headband; and her sheer pantyhose. She was just thrilled with the whole outfit and asked daily if she could put it on (she couldn't).
In March, she had a First Communion retreat, where she got to taste a host and the wine, and practice the right way to receive both. (We also watched a video where a beloved grandmother dropped dead while baking Easter bread, with some dubious symbolism about "bread" and "celebration" and "family," but that's neither here nor there.) She was assigned one of the Prayers of the Faithful to read during the Mass, which she practiced diligently, finally mastering the word "catechists." (Greta wound up memorizing the whole thing and is still reciting it.)
At last, Lucia's big day arrived. Mom and Dad had been in for the weekend, and Molly and Luca arrived in the morning. She finally got to put on her beautiful outfit, and she looked angelic. Mom and Dad gave her a small cross with diamonds, just like my grandparents gave me for my Communion. We took lots of pictures. We went to the church. The kids got to sit with their families, on the aisle, in pews marked with banners they'd made with their names on them. They processed in and sang "Gift of Finest Wheat," then processed in again for the Mass.
Is there anything sweeter and more innocent than a class of kids making their First Communion?
Through it all, Lucia was practically giddy with excitement about the moment she'd receive communion. Finally, it was time. Each child went up with two of her chosen adults (it was me and my mom, since Andrew isn't Catholic) (YET). She was so reverent and happy. She managed not to make a face when she took the wine. She was beaming.
She may never again be this excited about church, but I'm grateful we decided to do the whole CCD thing and have her make the sacrament. Anyone who's talked to me after I've had a couple of glasses of prosecco has heard my feelings about the importance of public rituals; there are so few of them, and they're so meaningful. They bring people together in a way that feels different from a regular gathering. Holidays are important too, full of traditions, but rituals--once in a lifetime, usually, performed in a community--are uniquely special. They're a chance to take part in--to become part of--something bigger than your own home and family.
Afterward, we had friends and neighbors over to our house to celebrate, with a cake (Lucia's choice: chocolate and vanilla layers with chocolate mousse in the middle) and a giant candy platter that was definitely a highlight of the day. It was a fun party. After everyone left, we gave Lucia our gift: an American Girl doll named Luciana, which she's been desperately wanting. (Greta got one too; it was a family celebration.) When she opened it, she jumped up and threw her arms around us in rapturous thanks.
It was a beautiful and wonderful First Communion.
In March, she had a First Communion retreat, where she got to taste a host and the wine, and practice the right way to receive both. (We also watched a video where a beloved grandmother dropped dead while baking Easter bread, with some dubious symbolism about "bread" and "celebration" and "family," but that's neither here nor there.) She was assigned one of the Prayers of the Faithful to read during the Mass, which she practiced diligently, finally mastering the word "catechists." (Greta wound up memorizing the whole thing and is still reciting it.)
At last, Lucia's big day arrived. Mom and Dad had been in for the weekend, and Molly and Luca arrived in the morning. She finally got to put on her beautiful outfit, and she looked angelic. Mom and Dad gave her a small cross with diamonds, just like my grandparents gave me for my Communion. We took lots of pictures. We went to the church. The kids got to sit with their families, on the aisle, in pews marked with banners they'd made with their names on them. They processed in and sang "Gift of Finest Wheat," then processed in again for the Mass.
Is there anything sweeter and more innocent than a class of kids making their First Communion?
Through it all, Lucia was practically giddy with excitement about the moment she'd receive communion. Finally, it was time. Each child went up with two of her chosen adults (it was me and my mom, since Andrew isn't Catholic) (YET). She was so reverent and happy. She managed not to make a face when she took the wine. She was beaming.
She may never again be this excited about church, but I'm grateful we decided to do the whole CCD thing and have her make the sacrament. Anyone who's talked to me after I've had a couple of glasses of prosecco has heard my feelings about the importance of public rituals; there are so few of them, and they're so meaningful. They bring people together in a way that feels different from a regular gathering. Holidays are important too, full of traditions, but rituals--once in a lifetime, usually, performed in a community--are uniquely special. They're a chance to take part in--to become part of--something bigger than your own home and family.
Afterward, we had friends and neighbors over to our house to celebrate, with a cake (Lucia's choice: chocolate and vanilla layers with chocolate mousse in the middle) and a giant candy platter that was definitely a highlight of the day. It was a fun party. After everyone left, we gave Lucia our gift: an American Girl doll named Luciana, which she's been desperately wanting. (Greta got one too; it was a family celebration.) When she opened it, she jumped up and threw her arms around us in rapturous thanks.
It was a beautiful and wonderful First Communion.
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