Cilla’s friend Veronica invited her to go to “Mass” with
her. I thought it would be
educational, and one thing I learned from the Unitarians was "Never pass up a chance to learn something." Cilla came home talking about
the incense (which smelled “neat”), the bells, and the “beauty-full outfits”
the priests wore. Unfortunately for Cilla,
who likes as much pageantry as possible, our Episcopal church is “Low,” which
can be described as “beautiful in its simplicity,” “no nonsense” or “dreary and
boring.”
When she asked if she could go the next week, I said, “If
it’s not inconvenient for Veronica’s family.”
I doubted that it would be. How
much trouble is it to save a soul from eternal damnation?
The next week she came home all excited because Veronica’s
mother had given her a dollar and she’d lit a candle and made a wish. “You’re
supposed to say a prayer,” I said. Then
a thought occurred to me. “Was there a
statue by the candles?”
“Oh, yes, Mary.
Veronica said we call her ‘the Blessed Virgin Mother.’” Ed started coughing. It’s too bad he wasn’t drinking anything at the
time. It would have been a wonderful sitcom moment. I always thought I was broad minded, but I
suddenly understood how parents could have their children kidnapped from cults.
I almost told her to say a prayer at the Jesus statue next
time, but I didn’t want to put the idea of a next time in her head. I needn’t have worried. “Can I have a dollar for next week?”
Ed gave her two. “Here’s
one for Veronica.”I was glad Betsey and Josh weren’t around, or we would have had to give them money, too.
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