I wish I could live in this day for quite some time. Twenty-four hours doesn’t seem long enough. I want to live in this joy and happiness for much longer than that.
I knew I would cry. I tried not to, but as soon as I knelt before the bishop, as soon as I felt Lorraine, Judy and Robin with their hands on my back, blessing me, supporting me, lending their strength to me, as soon as I looked up at the bishop, the tears started flowing.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
“Very,” I said.
And then he anointed me and prayed for me and confirmed me into the Episcopal Church.
What I’m not sure people realize is how close I was to breaking down completely … how close I was to moving from simple tears to outright sobbing.
I also don’t know if Lorraine, Judy and Robin realize that without their support, both figurative and literal, I wouldn’t have been able to kneel at all. They held me up.
Never in my life have I felt as blessed as I was today. This summer has been a healing summer that has brought me closer to God. But being confirmed today was more than just healing … it was a moment that truly opened my eyes to God.
They say that right before you die your life flashes before your eyes. When I knelt before the bishop, bits and pieces of my life flashed before my eyes.
I remembered all the Sundays I have ever spent at church, all the CCD classes I took in the Catholic Church as a child. I remembered my first communion, how sunny it was that day, how unhappy my mom was because she had recently (accidentally I think) dyed her hair orange.
I remembered how I slid away from the Catholic Church, slowly, struggling to hold onto them because of my love for the liturgy. I remembered the years of floating from one church to the next, aimless and desperate for a home.
And then I found Hope.
All of these memories flashed before me in the second before I looked into the bishop’s eyes.
My life flashed before me.
But this day wasn’t about death.
This day was about new life.
And I wish I could live in this day forever.
