Thursday night this past week was a big, exciting evening for us. Not only was it almost the end of a rather exhausting week, but Edward and I attended baptism class at a local church.
By local church, what I really mean is splendid cathedral in the heart of downtown Orlando. We went to St James Cathedral, thinking (correctly as it turned out) that this would be the best place in the city to take a class like this.
Let me just say that I haven’t been to church in years. And the last time I did might have been a Christmas mass with my Mum and Granny. Edward hasn’t been in years either. But Vince attends a Christian based daycare and we feel it’s an important thing to do. Also, I am not Catholic. Edward is. As is his whole family.
So, this whole Catholic baptism? Well I was a little… nervous. I guess that is the best way to describe it. The Cathedral was enormous. We had no idea what we were doing. We parked somewhere that we were not sure if we should be parking. It was on church grounds, it looked like you could park there. Well, it didn’t specifically say ‘don’t park here’. So we parked. Hoping maybe that that homeless guy would guard our car…
We wandered in through the main entrance. There was nobody there. Peering in through the glass that separated us from the main church, someone gestured at us wildly. After a lot of “Who me? Or him? Us? You mean us?” gesturing, we walked down the aisle towards the front of the church and encountered a rather cheerful person, who asked us if we were here for the ‘adoration’.
“No, we are looking for the baptism class…”
“OH!! OK!! Just go…..” and she gave us very explicit directions which I believe we both promptly forgot after following just one part.
Because, as we followed her pointing finger through a door and into a courtyard, we encountered about 150 people. They looked tremendously cheerful too. One of them asked us if we were here for the ‘adoration’ too.
“Um, no. The baptism class.”
We were directed to a little old lady in a very secure room on the other side of the courtyard. She buzzed us through to a secure area and instructed us to take the elevator to the basement.
The basement was pitch black.
For about 10 seconds I serious thought I was in a horror movie. And then? I turned my head to the right and saw a room with some people and then thought “Great. We’re late.”
But, great! We weren’t!
In fact, it all went smoothly and the Deacon promised we would be done an hour earlier than the class was scheduled for. That was Deacon David. The nicest person ever. I honestly wanted him to be my neighbour/best friend/family member. He was one heck of a guy.
And so we learned. And prayed. And talked awkwardly about ourselves. And smelled Holy oils. And I learned a very interesting thing.
Even though Edward hasn’t been to church in five million years, he can still spot on cross himself at the beginning of a prayer just like he never stopped attending. I wish he’d warned me. I just felt confused while that was going on… and then kind of embarrassed.
And as we were leaving he yelled at me for stepping on the grass. And then apologized, stating it was just reflex. Made me laugh.
Made me love him more. Even though he is the hugest pain in my ass. I just might love him a bit more now….
xoxoxo a.m. (spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch)