Back in the fall, I realized that our parish’s Confirmation Mass would be happening during our son’s band trip to Disney World. Our ninth grader went on the parish retreat and did the rest of the preparation with our parish, but he would need to go to another church to be confirmed.
That was fine, of course. We are one Catholic Church. So, we focused on the preparation and worried less about where it would happen. In the end, I was grateful that we had a little more time to talk and think and consider and pray.
But as he completed his preparation, I started wondering where we would finally be to see him receive the actual sacrament.
During Holy Week, our parish let us know the dates of two possible Confirmation Masses at churches not too far away—one on a Saturday that wouldn’t work for us at all, and one on a Monday evening at Our Lady of Grace in Parkton that was coming up quickly. The decision made itself.
I made sure my brother-in-law George, our son’s sponsor, could make it that night, and I said we’d be there.
A couple of days later, I realized I had forgotten to mention the date to my parents, so I called to make a quick phone invitation. “I wondered why you invited George and not us,” my mother said. “Then I remembered he was the sponsor.”
Whew.
That morning I threw a crockpot meal together, not knowing what time we would be home or how tired we would be.
That afternoon I scrambled to get our older son home from school so he could have a minute to catch his breath before we left for the church.
Because we are in the midst of April craziness, our younger son had his first baseball game of the season—his first game in four years—that same night. I found a sitter to take him, my husband made sure he had everything he needed, and we sent him on his way.
We hurried to Our Lady of Grace and slid into our pew—almost on time.
His sponsor made it, and my parents made it.
It was beautiful. As the bishop sealed our son with the gifts of the Holy Spirit, my eyes filled with tears. Because it was all so wonderful and powerful. It was expected and yet unexpected. It was unfamiliar but familiar. We weren’t in our home church, but we were home.
Our son chose as his Confirmation saint a saint I hadn’t known, St. Xi Zhu Zi, a Chinese martyr who died at 18. His story is full of courage and faith. His patronage apparently includes youth and family strife—helpful for any teen or anyone. I’ve loved getting to know a saint who will have a connection to our family forever.
That evening, as I was doing a little extra research, I discovered the date of our son’s Confirmation was the anniversary of the day that St. Xi Zhu Zi was beatified in 1955. April 17—68 years apart.
Suddenly it all made sense. I hadn’t known how the pieces would come together, but God did. He knew our son would find his way to St. Xi Zhu Zi. He knew we would find our way to Our Lady of Grace. He knew that the dates would be linked and that heaven would be rejoicing as our son stepped forward in faith.
God knew. And we were just along for the ride.
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