As our younger son is getting ready to be confirmed, I’ve been thinking back on my time as an eighth grader preparing for the sacrament. I made some wonderful friends in my confirmation class. I’m sure we grumbled about having class on Sundays, but we grew close during that time together.
Like almost every other Catholic teen of that time in Baltimore, I went on a retreat to the O’Dwyer Retreat House in Sparks. We sat cross-legged on the floor, separated from one another to have a little privacy, and opened letters from people in our lives.
My father had written a heartfelt note about faith, and I am sure my sister Maureen, who was my sponsor, sent something equally poignant.
My mother had carefully written a brief note on a small piece of paper, but hers was a cryptogram. Each letter represented a different letter in the alphabet. To understand what she had written, I had to solve it first. While my friends pored over pages of handwritten letters and wiped away the occasional tear, I dove into figuring out my mother’s secret code. I was so excited when I found the solution.
As our confirmation Mass drew near, my friends and I met to rehearse in the church. I was assigned to help bring up the gifts, which seemed like the dream role for a quiet teenager who wanted to blend into the background.
What I learned, though, was that carrying the gifts to the altar was far from an ordinary trip up the aisle. We were participating in a choreographed activity that bordered on liturgical dance, lifting and raising our baskets and bowls, moving in unison as we progressed slowly, and dramatically, toward the altar. I felt so self-conscious, but God gives us grace in all kinds of ways, and I fulfilled my role just fine.
After Mass, we all gathered in the church hall for cake and time with our families. From there, we went on with our lives, full of grace and the gifts of the Holy Spirit, just a little more prepared for high school and all that would come after that.
This spring, when I sat down to write a letter for our son to open on his confirmation retreat, I told him that I hope he will always know God is with him. I am excited for him to receive God’s grace at his confirmation. And I hope I have done everything I can to help him get to this point.
As parents, all we can do is plant seeds and hope they take root. Some might take years to grow and some may never grow. What a beautiful opportunity – and enormous responsibility – we take on when we become parents. We promise to try to raise our children in our faith, and we do our part to fill them up with all they will need for the future.
We talk and listen and write letters and pray for them all the time. We guide them as much as we can, and we ask God to hold them in his hands. By the grace of God, they grow and become who they are meant to be.
“ ’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved,” as we hear in “Amazing Grace.” “How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed!”
Of course, God doesn’t give us grace just at our baptism and confirmation, but over and over in abundance. We have so many wonderful opportunities to receive his grace and all the gifts that come with it. Whatever season we are in, may we experience God’s grace in ways that help us grow closer to him.
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