God School

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This past weekend, Iz had yet another event she was very much looking forward to. With her birthday and the Father-Daughter dance behind her, she repeatedly began to tell me about and remind me of her next adventure – “God School.” This is how she referred to her Catholic religious school also known as CCD.

Every day last week, I heard, “Mom, I’m going to God School this week,” or “Don’t be surprised when I’m not here on Sunday morning, Mommy, because I’ll be at God School.” Funny, but her never-ending bulletins and reminders about it made me think of the main character in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” who was always talking about going to “Greek School.” In Iz’s scenario, unlike the character in the movie, God School seemed to be like a trip to Disney World.

I wanted to tell her that there would be no “attractions” at CCD; there would be no man from the Audubon Society named Noah showing his two bald eagles, water would not turn into root beer, and the closest she would get to locusts were the lady bugs that were hatching everywhere lately. But, I didn’t. I only said, “You’ll learn a lot and have fun.”

I am supposed to be a Catholic. Technically, I am, but I’m a non-practicing Catholic that only practices “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” It’s worked for me so far, so I don’t feel compelled to do much more.

For family reasons, I became a Catholic and had Iz baptized. It was important to John’s father, and at the time, that was a very good reason for me. And, it still is.

My Dad went to parochial school. He suffered at the hands of some horrible nuns who told him he was stupid. I think over time that my Dad gave up on his religion, only going when his father came to visit; thus, when I was 15 and asked if I wanted to continue with a confirmation, I told my parents “No,” and they respected my decision.

In the end, my Dad went back to what he knew and what I think he truly believed in all his life, despite his lapse and asked for a Catholic service when he knew he was going to die. Me? I want a big party on Cisco beach with a clam bake, champagne, music, and lots of laughter and dancing. And, my ashes will be scattered all over that beautiful beach. It’s a simple plan, but it’s what I believe spiritually would be my fitting end.

Anyway, I had no problem with Iz going to CCD. In fact, I think I was a bit envious. There were times in my life when I wished I had a religious label; however, it was only because I felt like it would make me “normal.” At one point, I got over that and decided that the only label that I might ever be fond of was the one crafted by the International Ladies' Garment Workers' Union in the collar my vintage apparel!

Nathan, unlike Iz, had been brought up with no religious background, which was never discussed between his parents but seemed to be something we silently agreed on. For a short time, I tried to bring Nathan to the Unitarian Church when I went, but he didn’t seem interested even at that young age in any sort of organized religion. When he was young, he declared to me that he was a Libertarian and an atheist, later becoming a devotee of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

It never really bothered me that Nathan was honest from the get-go about his religious beliefs or more like his lack of belief in religion. I wondered if Nathan’s beliefs would have been different had we brought him to church from the beginning, but with two on-the-fence parents would it have made any difference? Was it because Nathan had a scientist personality, which I thought made it difficult for him to accept anything that required faith?

After his claim of atheism, I stopped thinking about it. I respected him for believing wholeheartedly. And then I admired him, because he had faith in something, something that made him one of few and daring Americans (12% to be exact) who actually admitted to being an Atheist.

Anyway, when Iz and I went grocery shopping one night last week, she ran into the teacher, Renee, who instructs the second grade at God School. Iz said, “You have to wear skirts to God School.” Renee said, “No, you don’t. You can wear anything you want.” Iz said, “You have to wear a skirt!” I love the way Iz invents the answers to the questions marks in her life. I figure this is a sign of creativity or it could mean big trouble later in life.

“Iz, where’s your report card?”
“They’re not giving out report cards this quarter due to the paper shortage. They write them on your hand instead. See. Oh, dear. My grades are all smudged now! Believe me, Mom, I did well, okay?”

Iz would not be alone at God School either. Her best friend, Katherine, was going to begin God School, too. In fact, I found the letter she wrote to Katherine the night before.

Dear Kathrine thaks for gowing to God School with me becose I would be scad becose I wouldit have any freds Love Isabelle

On Sunday morning at 7:30, I walked out into the hallway and saw Iz standing there fully dressed. I thought, “Why can’t she be like this on school mornings?” She was dressed in a black SKIRT, a red and black plaid top, red and black plaid shoes, and had put on a pair of nylons.

She saw me and said, “Oh, Mom. Could you put this on?” I said, “Sure. You look lovely, Iz.” She thanked me and handed me a crystal bead necklace which had a cross hanging from it. She had a gift certificate to a local jewelry store, and when she picked this necklace out a few weeks ago, she said, “This will be good for God School.”

I began to fasten the necklace. She then said, “I am wearing this because it has a cross on it. Jesus was on a cross. That was so mean, wasn’t it, Mom?” I agreed.

I then noticed that she had even brushed her hair without prompting. Despite whatever feelings I had, I knew Iz was going to love God School. So be it, and off she went at 9am.

When the car pulled in the driveway at noon (she went to church with John after God School), I braced myself to hear adjectives like “boring” or “scary.” She walked in carrying two pamphlets with a big smile on her face. I asked, “So, how as it?” She said, “Good! We had snack, and I got to take these home. I have to study them, okay?” No matter how I felt, I was elated that she happy with what she had found at God School.

About an hour later, she and I hit the road for a “shop date” (the big girls “play date”) with Melissa and her daughter, Sydney, at the mall. Iz brought her God School pamphlets with her in the car. At this point, she was faithful at least to her homework assignment.

Once in the car, Iz asked, as usual, “How many highways do we have to take to get there?” I said, “Two.” She said, “Okay, then I think I’ll do my studying now,” picked up her “Children of light!” pamphlet, and began to read out loud to herself.

About ten minutes later, she said, “Mom, repeat after me.” I said, “What?” She said, “Mom, we have to pray now. Repeat after me, okay?” She then said, “Dear God, our Father, thank you for Jesus, your Son. Now you say that, Mom.” Did I? Yes. I did.

She said, “He shows us the way…” I said, “He shows us the way…” We said the whole prayer together. Would I ever be shown the way entirely? I don’t think so. But, while my daughter was making her way, I would be there by her side even though I had already found my way.

Iz believes one way and Nathan believes another way. Did I think one was right and one was wrong? I thought that my kids would always believe different things and be two different people.

Nate will support the right to bear arms, and Iz will support the right to arm bears. Nate is a “Pastafarian;” Iz will probably end up being an altar girl. Lately, I think my religion has become accepting my children for who they are, and, most importantly, respecting what they believe no matter what I believe. ♥