{"id":3308,"date":"2014-10-31T16:00:41","date_gmt":"2014-10-31T21:00:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/admin.patheos.com\/blogs\/rebeccafrech\/?p=3308"},"modified":"2014-10-31T16:00:41","modified_gmt":"2014-10-31T21:00:41","slug":"when-the-mass-came-to-my-house","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/rebeccafrech\/2014\/10\/when-the-mass-came-to-my-house.html","title":{"rendered":"When The Mass Came to My House"},"content":{"rendered":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional\/\/EN\" \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/REC-html40\/loose.dtd\">\n<html><head><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><\/head><body><p>My mother recently sent me a box filled with photographs from my childhood. Amid the out of focus shots, scary 80\u2019s hair, and pictures with livestock<\/p>\n<p><figure id=\"attachment_3309\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-3309\" style=\"width: 225px\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\"><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/458\/2014\/10\/IMG_05691-e1414785793603.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-3309 size-medium\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/458\/2014\/10\/IMG_05691-e1414785793603-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"IMG_0569[1]\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\"><\/a><figcaption id=\"caption-attachment-3309\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">I have no explanation for either the haircut or the crazy look on the cow\u2019s face<\/figcaption><\/figure>were the pictures from my First Communion.<\/p>\n<p>It\u2019s funny how clearly I can remember that day in perfect detail \u2013 from my First Confession in the spare bedroom filled with boxes to the Mass said at our coffee table.<\/p>\n<p>My father was in the Navy, and we moved two weeks before my 1st grade class was scheduled for our First Holy Communions. The Navy doesn\u2019t wait for sacraments, so our priest graciously agreed to move mine up to the weekend (three days) before we moved so that family could attend.\u00a0 When the church became unavailable for reasons I can\u2019t recall (I was 6 and that was a long time ago, but I think it had something to do with storm damage.) the Mass was moved to our house.<\/p>\n<p>Fr Lee came over early in the afternoon to hear my Confession. The only place with a door and no annoying older brother was the spare bedroom filled with moving boxes. I was too nervous to look him in the face, so we sat cross-legged and back-to-back on the floor. Afterwards, he supervised the rearranging of our living room furniture for Mass as I got dressed and Mom curled my hair.<\/p>\n<p><figure id=\"attachment_3310\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-3310\" style=\"width: 225px\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\"><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/458\/2014\/10\/IMG_05741-e1414786530528.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-3310 size-medium\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/458\/2014\/10\/IMG_05741-e1414786530528-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"IMG_0574[1]\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\"><\/a><figcaption id=\"caption-attachment-3310\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Fr Lee explaining the Mass to our mostly Protestant neighbors\/guests before Mass began<\/figcaption><\/figure>My parents had invited everyone we knew, whether they were Catholic or not, so that my First Communion Mass would be filled with people we loved, and so we could tell them all good-bye. It was a simple Mass without grand music, just my dad\u2019s guitar and the voices of everyone there, but it was also one of the most beautiful Masses I\u2019ve ever attended.<\/p>\n<p><figure id=\"attachment_3312\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-3312\" style=\"width: 300px\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\"><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/458\/2014\/10\/IMG_05751.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-3312 size-medium\" src=\"http:\/\/wp.production.patheos.com\/blogs\/rebeccafrech\/files\/2014\/10\/IMG_05771-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"IMG_0577[1]\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\"><\/a><figcaption id=\"caption-attachment-3312\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">The homily<\/figcaption><\/figure><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-3311\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/458\/2014\/10\/IMG_05751-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"IMG_0575[1]\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\"><\/p>\n<p><figure id=\"attachment_3313\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-3313\" style=\"width: 225px\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\"><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/458\/2014\/10\/IMG_05761-e1414787054239.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-3313 size-medium\" src=\"http:\/\/wp.production.patheos.com\/blogs\/rebeccafrech\/files\/2014\/10\/IMG_05761-e1414787054239-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"IMG_0576[1]\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\"><\/a><figcaption id=\"caption-attachment-3313\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Looking pretty holy!<\/figcaption><\/figure><figure id=\"attachment_3314\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-3314\" style=\"width: 300px\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\"><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/458\/2014\/10\/IMG_05801.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-3314 size-medium\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/458\/2014\/10\/IMG_05801-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"IMG_0580[1]\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\"><\/a><figcaption id=\"caption-attachment-3314\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">My family and Fr Lee<\/figcaption><\/figure>I have often thought back to the memory of that evening, and the graces that came with it \u2013 this one perfect moment in time when Jesus came to our house, and we invited everyone we knew to meet Him there.<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>My mother recently sent me a box filled with photographs from my childhood. Amid the out of focus shots, scary 80\u2019s hair, and pictures with livestock were the pictures from my First Communion. It\u2019s funny how clearly I can remember that day in perfect detail \u2013 from my First Confession in the spare bedroom filled [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1979,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3308","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v21.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>When The Mass Came to My House<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"My mother recently sent me a box filled with photographs from my childhood. 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