A Sunday to Remember

Yesterday was a big day for J.P.

For the past eight months or so, J.P. has been attending First Communion Sunday School classes at Cathedral - where Jude and I were married - before our regular 11 a.m. church service at St. Patrick.  Like so much that he does, J.P. has taken his preparation for First Communion seriously.  He is and always has been an old soul that way.

Last Sunday, he was asked to do the second reading at the First Communion church service at Cathedral.  He was proud to have been asked and solemnly practiced his reading all week long.  As is also his way, J.P. bristled a little when Jude and I made suggestions to him while he was practicing (speak slowly, don't chew up your words, etc.), mostly because he expects so much of himself.  Sometimes, with constructive criticism, he tends to focus more on the "criticism" and not so much on the "constructive."

Jude's brother, James, was in town with his 2 + year old daughter, Caroline, for the festivities.  Jim and Jane White were there, of course.  Tom and Sandy White were at Cathedral, as were Jude's aunts, Margaret and Ann.  Tracy, Gary and the kids (Kaitlyn and Matthew) brought my mom, which made the day all the more special.  Alice and Jerry came, too.  Our families were well represented.

When J.P. walked down the aisle, hands clasped as if for prayer, I smiled to myself.  He looked great in the red tie I helped him tie that morning, the first real tie he has ever worn.  After Father Steiner addressed the children, who were sitting up front, and the congregation, one of J.P.'s Sunday School classmates did the first reading.  Next came the Psalm.  Suddenly, it was time for the second reading.

J.P. got up, walked to the center of the church, in front of the altar, and bowed low.  Then, he walked up the stairs, behind the lectern, and adjusted the microphone.  And away he went.

My son, my eldest son, who seemingly only days before was being baptized as an infant by Father Eric at St. Patrick, was reading from the bible to a crowd of well over 500 people.

And he nailed it.

J.P. spoke loudly, slowly and clearly.  Truth be told, he was easier to understand than many adults I have heard do readings at church.  When he finished, a lady in front of us mouthed to her companion "he's really good."  I beamed with pride.

When he finished and walked back to his seat, Jude and I looked at each other and shared a moment - a moment made up of so many other moments.  Something passed between us, unsaid and not needing to be said.  We exchanged a fist bump and I said a silent prayer of thanks.

A few minutes later, I watch J.P. take communion for the first time - the first of many, many times in his lifetime.

I've thought this before, but it wouldn't surprise me if J.P. became a priest one day.  What's important to me, though, is that he remembers the day of his First Communion and how proud Jude and I were of him.