Life of a Zygote: Blood of Christ

So Jacque has rightfully slapped my hand for not updating. I have meant too, but frankly, I suck at life. I am just super boring at the moment. Also super busy with work, but that’s boring. See, the circle closes. Boring, boring, and boring. Sooooooooo…..

Since I have nothing of value from current evens to share and in honor of Jacque’s upcoming conversion to the Catholic Church I will share my first communion story. I know it should probably be a first confession story, but I can’t remember anything too memorable about that day. (Granted I was 6, so I am lucky I remember I even did it!) I’ll have to ask around about that.

A little back ground: I come from a German/Irish family. One of the standing jokes is that I am a stubborn, angry drunk. I think I am a happy drunk, but apparently I am wrong. So anyway, my family has been known to tie one on now and then. Drinking was never taboo around me and I would try wine (a sip) at dinner with my family at an early age. It was never a big deal and I was never curious about alcohol. In my communion classes, (which by the way my parents made me go to TWO different classes at TWO different churches. I am just remembering this as I am typing. Why they did this I have no idea, cause all along I was going to go through the ceremony at the one church. Not sure why they thought it necessary for me to go to TWO communion classes a week. Overkill much? Oh and I just remember these classes were like 6 months long. Why in Sam hell did they make me do this?) Any way, in the classes, the teachers discussed that we didn’t have to drink the wine. I remember at 7 thinking how gross it was to drink out of the same cup as all these people, so I decided that I wouldn’t drink it.

The morning of my communion I put on my white dress and the wreath which the veil hung from and looked all sorts of pious and adorable. There is a picture of me where I do look so unbelievably innocent, all I can do is look back now and laugh. We get to the church and I am super excited. All my family is there, I am loving my white dress that’s all frilly and pretty and I am the center of attention. When we arrive they split us up by last names A-G, H-M, O-Z. Each group sits in a section of the church and we are to single file walk up for communion to a different Eucharistic Minister.

Here is where things get tricky. My last name is at the end of one of these groups. As we are walking up the alter I notice that EVERYONE is drinking the wine and I begin to panic. I don’t want to be different, maybe I didn’t understand correctly and we do have to drink the wine. My seven year old mind is racing. I can’t stand out! I can’t be different! (Oh to be seven and have those worries again) So I decided that I am going to drink the wine. I don’t really want to, but I don’t want to be different more. I take the wafer and everything goes smoothly. I walk over to the wine and very slowly, because I was afraid of getting the wine on my white dress, tip back the cup….. and…….. nothing. So I tip is slowly back some more…… and…… nothing. I tip it back a little more and it dawns on me. The cup is empty and I look like I am Chugging the wine. I quickly put the cup down and hand it back. Hoping and praying that no one noticed that it appeared that I was just getting jiggy with the wine. I quickly walked back to my seat with my head down wanting to die.

The ceremony continues and I start to relax. At the end of the service we all walked out to the garden where are families are waiting and I notice something that makes my blood run cold. My father has a video camera in his hands. I walk up to my family all excited because I just got my first communion and my father bellows at the top of his lungs, with EVERYONE’S families milling around….. “DID YOU LEAVE ANY WINE FOR ANYONE ELSE?”

I.was.mortified.

So much for not standing out, I should have skipped the wine all together. And the funny thing is I have never been able to take the wine since. That video is still out there and somehow still makes an appearance at family functions. I will never live down being the lush at my first communion. Jacque, here’s to hoping your wine glass is full!