No Promises

The family that plays together stays together. The family that eats together stays together.
The family that prays together stays together. The family that reads together stays together. If these are promises, somebody owes an apology to alot of families.

Cathy and I were typical, traditional parents whatever that means. Cathy's career was at home with the boys, I had the career outside of the house. We went to church on Sundays. Ate dinner as a family. Prayed as a family. Played as a family. All are incidents of happy, sad, surprising times. We all laughed in church. We all cried in church. Same with the dinner table.

There is a prayer we Catholics say at meal time and it goes like this:
Bless us O Lord for these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty through Christ our Lord, Amen.

After chanting and mumbling that sentence 1095 times a year for 30 plus years it occured to me that I had no clue what it meant. A change in the prayer ritualwas in order.

Cathy sat to my left, Patrick to my right with his back to the window, and Aaron was directly across from me. With a sleeve in the table, Aaron had a place at the opposite head of the table typically reserved for one of the parents. We kept the table small and round. Our new prayer ritual, starting in '98, was to make the sign of the cross, "In the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, Amen" (we didn't say Holy Ghost. That was to scary for the boys) and then proceed with a simple thank you for whatever we were grateful for. Patrick and I would typically have some depth to our gratitude--Patrick, "For the sunny day so I could play with my friends". Me, "For the people who care for the children who have no parents." Aaron and Cathy would try to be the first to say "For this food". They were the traditionalists and praying from the heart was not going to come easy for the Catholic school girl and the alter boy.

Family dinners are rare as are prayers at the dinner table. I know we all have gratitude but the empty chair is sad enough without the silence it emits in turn.

Only this past Saturday did Cathy announce that she feels a desire to return to church. The Mom who rallied the boys--all three of us boys, on Saturday nights or Sunday mornings to get to church against our wills. The Mom who set the table, made the dinners, led the prayers. The Mom who played the games, organized the family outings, read the stories until the covers fell off. That Mom attended church last Sunday for the third time since Aaron's funeral. Cathy cried.

She put it all on the line for her boys. Moms do that. They give themselves to their children and trust in the religion of their youth. Only Mothers know a Mother's sorrow. God didn't kill Cathy's son. God didn't fail Aaron. There is no purpose in Aaron's death. There is solitude in the sorrow and in solitude is God. Cathy is nearest to God and this is not the God of our youth. This God has patience and mercy.

So, what about "The family that _______ together, stays together."? That's not a promise. That's a bumper sticker from the religious politics of the feel good church of any denomination.