The Last First Communion

One of the most memorable homilies I ever heard was the one given by Father P. for Tali and Josie's First Communion.  It was at our local church attached to the Catholic School they attended at the time in Virginia.

Father P. attended Mount Saint Mary's Seminary in Emmitsburg, Md.  As MSM College (now University) is my Alma Mater, I was already a fan.  After the sermon he gave for the First Communion masses, I was even more impressed.

He spoke about a sign on the sacristy wall of the St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Basilica. It says, "Priest of God, celebrate this Mass as if it were your first Mass, your last Mass, your only Mass."  He modified it to speak of receiving Holy Communion.  He told the kids they should "Receive every Holy Communion as if it is your First Holy Communion, your Last Holy Communion, your Only Holy Communion."  I thought it was such a poignant idea.  Many times, the Eucharist becomes such a habit, we just take it for granted and don't use the reverence we should.

Fast forward seven years.  Sawyer was in 2nd grade for the second year in a row. Having a Special Needs child can be overwhelming at times.  Although Sawyer is very high functioning, his autism demands additional needs; for example, IEP meetings, behavior therapy in the home, feeding clinic appointments, and the day to day struggle of trying not to meltdown when it is inappropriate.  Take sports for instance.  Sawyer knows that boys his age are not supposed to cry when they strike out, but the frustration of not performing is overwhelming and he loses it. He knows that his peers don't have a problem with loud and rowdy kids in the school cafeteria, but the over stimulation of many noises (in this case, voices) coming from several directions causes him to lose his ability to do anything besides curl up in a ball and hold his hands over his ears.

Last year, Sawyer and I attended the first two CCD classes with the Communion group.  There were about 20 kids and one teacher.  As I have to accompany Sawyer to most activities, it was mistakenly thought that I would be the aide as I would be there anyway.  Uhhhh, it doesn't work that way.  When Sawyer is in full meltdown mode, I can do nothing but deal with Sawyer.  And even when there is not nuclear combustion going on, I really need to focus on him.  Needless to say, I pulled him and we "homeschooled" CCD.  Homeschooling CCD meant walking the other kids to the church for classes and finding an empty classroom to watch a Bible Video.  I found a series which had a quiz at the end, so I could trick myself into believing he was actually learning something.

When we moved East and Sawyer was in 2nd grade again, I was assured there were at least three 2nd grade CCD classes.  I was thankful for the small class size and felt much more confident about his "Sacramental Year."  When we arrived for the first class, I was told the three teachers had decided to join forces and teach one big class.  You can imagine my delight at such a prospect.  But, I was assured that there were three teachers and at least three aides with the 30-40 kids in the class.  More importantly, no one was expecting me to do anything, but sit with Sawyer. That, I was relatively sure I could do.

We attended the majority of classes and on occasion, Sawyer actually participated.  When it was time to recite his prayers to ensure he knew them, we played fill in the blank.   "Our _____, who ___ in _______," You get the idea.  I had spoken with the Priest, actually two of them at our new Parish and was assured it would be okay.  I wasn't sure he'd be able to receive his Sacraments at all, but one priest remarked that sometimes Special Needs kids are almost more deserving of Grace from The Lord.  I was feeling pretty good.

And then it was time for Confession.  Kids typically make their First Confession several weeks before their First Communion.  We went to classes and we practiced.  We made a cheat sheet with the class and practiced.  We said our prayers and we practiced.  The big day came....and went.  He did not want to go when his class was going.  As I had already experienced taking a teary eyed and terrified child (Josie) to her First Confession while all the parents and the entire 2nd grade class watched, I was not anxious to do it again.  I had already spoken with the Priest about doing it quietly in his office some day.  And that's exactly what we did.  Sawyer was not overly responsive and didn't say hardly anything, but Father W. took a very smart approach and asked Sawyer a series of "yes" or "no" questions so Sauce could nod or shake his head to own up to any of his sins.  If there were any off the beaten track sins, they were grouped in with the others.  I'm certain that God had it covered.  For the record:  I was to keep my eyes closed as Sawyer was sitting on my lap.  I may or may not have peeked just a bit.

As we were leaving, I asked the Priest if he would tell the Religious Ed Director that Sawyer had indeed made his First Confession as he would not be able to take Communion until the former was done.  He smiled and said, "No."  I was like, "Whatdya mean 'no?' You're kidding right?"  He shook his head. "A Priest cannot tell anyone who has gone to confession."  I'm thinking, Seriously?  I coulda lied and no one would have ever.....shoot, never-mind.

We got over the precursor hurdle and suddenly it was the week of Josie's Confirmation and Sawyer's First Communion, because the Catholic Church is all about cramming in these two Sacraments before Matrimony season starts.  Poor Josie got next to no fanfare for her Thursday night event. Not only was she one of just a couple 9th graders getting Confirmed (because in Pennsylvania they Confirm in 8th grade and in Kansas they Confirm in 9th), but Sawyer's possible Communion was sucking up all my energy and anxiety.

The Big Day arrived.  May 9th, 2015.  I remember thinking as I woke up, this could really go either way.  In fact, I could think of about 107 scenarios of the day playing out with only a handful of them not being horrific.  Sawyer was certainly not willing to try on any clothes the weeks or even the night before.  I was measuring pants against the jeans he wore to school that week and shirts against the long sleeve Minecraft T-shirts that he donned on a daily basis.  By the grace of God, I was able to get him dressed and everything fit relatively well.  He did remind me, "I hate shirts with buttons." and "I will NOT wear a tie!"  Eventually, we left the house with him in khakis, a button-down shirt, clip-on tie, navy blazer, dark socks and loafers. I don't even attempt this much formality at a family wedding.  He was not happy, but surprisingly calm.

It was set up so the First Communicants would process in, making a full lap around the pews so parents and relatives could snap pictures at every possible camera angle before the kids made their way down the main aisle once again and sat in the first several pews of the church.  It took about 6.2 seconds for Sawyer to determine at rehearsal that he was having none of this parading around business. Not. Doing. It.  That was more than fine with me.  As far as I was concerned that meant less could go wrong. The Religious Education Director had a few pews set aside for kids that would do better sitting with their families.  We were in one of those pews.  However, even though Sawyer wasn't processing in, we still had to be there quite early.  Waiting, as you can imagine, especially for something that he is nervous about, is not Sawyer's forte.  Add in my four other kids whose seating arrangements required for maximum good behavior could be an SAT question (The Carlton's are going to sit together in church.  B Cha must sit on an end.  Lyra cannot sit next to B Cha or Tali.  Josie must sit on an end...) add in other family members and dynamics and we were a puddle of gas praying no one close by needed a smoke!

FINALLY, church began and the kids started their march down the aisle.  You could definitely pick out the future attention seeking brides vs the ones that would rather arrive at the alter in the middle of a ring of bridesmaids.  There were a handful of extremely prayerful young men...and the other 37 were a caricature of 8 year old boys whose Mothers had just spit on a tissue attempting to clean the chocolate pop tart off their face.

Mass was progressing along with only peppered interruptions from Sawyer, who inquired regularly on any updates re: Eastern Standard Time, while in turn providing notifications re: hunger, starvation, and impending dehydration. He had lost the sports coat at some point, but I didn't even notice until he looked at me with a rage that would've made Linda Blair shake and said, "I. Said. No. Ties."  It
required ever fiber of my being to not look back at him like a crazy woman and respond, "And. I. Said. No. Wire. Hangers."  True story.

The moment of truth arrived.  All the "neuro-typical" kids went to the alter and received the Body of Christ.  It was our turn.  I walked up the aisle on Sawyer's right side, and everything slurred together. We made it to the alter, the wonderful priest smiled at me, his eyes twinkling, I'm sure the suspense was killing him too.  I put my hands out and Sawyer mimicked me.  Father W. said, "The Body of Christ."  And I THINK Sawyer responded "Amen," but to be honest he could have said, "And also with you," and I wouldn't have noticed.  He took the host and placed it in his mouth!  Did you get that?  HE TOOK THE HOST AND PLACED IT IN HIS MOUTH!  If you are not Catholic, it is important to understand that when we, as Catholics, receive communion, we believe it to be the actual Body of Christ.  This is a huge deal and him going through with it, was enough for me to hear a chorus of angels singing the Easter Alleluia as I walked back to the pew. Tears, real tears were streaming down my cheeks.  A Momma could not have ever been prouder.

We knelt after communion and I praised God and thanked Jesus for getting both of us through this.  I was interrupted from my worship when Sawyer grabbed my arm in a strangle hold.  I looked at him, "What?"  He had a very strange look on his face and he started to open his mouth several times.  He pointed at his mouth. Like a properly trained mother, I obeyed and cupped my hand under his chin. What happened next was beyond any of those 107 scenarios I had feared.  He spit the well chewed wafer into my hand!  I was stunned and in shock for a good 19 seconds, before I pulled my hand back to examine the contents.  

Praying that he had somehow swallowed the host before ingesting and depositing a chewed up peanut butter cracker in my palm, I gazed down.  I will spare you the gory details, but what I was holding was no mystery.  I said, "Sawyer!  Whaaaa?" He looked at me blankly and said, "I have to go to the bathroom."  The noise that came from me must have been odd.  Josie looked over Sawyer's head and gave me a questioning look.  I turned my wrist slightly so she could see what I was holding while not spilling any of the puddle.  Her face contorted as she mentally put the pieces together of what could possibly be in my hand.  I now know exactly what the person who came up with the light bulb going off scenario was talking about.  I believe I saw a spark fire out of her ear.  She turned to Lyra and the whispers went westward down the pew.  As each child heard the news they looked at me with a "Say it ain't so Momma!" glance that I could only return with a small lift of my right hand.  Keep in mind that the families and friends of all the Communicants were still coming up the aisle, meaning, I could not leave my seat. As friends tapped me on the shoulder to wave or whisper "Hi" as they walked by, I plastered on a smile worthy of wedding photos.  Also, I kept my right hand out of view.

Hours (or possibly just a few minutes) later, as the last attendee passed, I grabbed Sawyer and said, "Let's go."  We walked up the aisle to the narthex and the bathrooms.  One of the CCD teachers was at the doorway and was so excited, "He did it!"  I reluctantly showed her my hand and I think she threw up in her mouth a little before saying, "Well, Momma, it's time to take one for the team."  I whimpered, "I have to don't I?"  Her nod was clear.  I nudged Sawyer into the Men's room and I went into the Ladies.  Again, if you are not Catholic, you must understand desecration of the host is a mortal sin.  It is akin to desecrating the body of Jesus.  The only option I had was ingesting the host myself.  I did.  I shall spare us both the details of that experience.

Please know, that this was a very pivotal moment for me as a Catholic.  Seriously. I briefly debated the alternatives before recognizing that I had no doubt what I needed to do.  It was not enjoyable.  Perhaps saying that is a sin, I hope not.  But I am happy with the decision I made.  There was no time to second guess myself as I now needed to get Sawyer back down to our pew before mass ended.  I'm not sure why that was so important at the moment, but it was.

I cracked the door of the Men's room and said, "Sauce?"  A booming voice (which did NOT belong to my eight year old son) came back, "Someone's in here!"  I enlisted the help of a teenage boy we knew.  I begged him to go in and see what was up.  He came out smiling and said, "He couldn't undo his belt."  Are you kidding me?  I had gone through an entire examination of my conscience and discernment of my faith and he hadn't gone to the bathroom yet?!?  Unbelievable.  I waited, suddenly having an inkling of what purgatory must feel like, until he came out, shirt untucked belt unbuckled, pants 1/2 way zipped.  I put him back together a la Clark Kent into Superman and rushed him down the aisle.  As we sat down the Priest and Clergy stood to process out.  Phew.

I vaguely remember walking to the parish activity center and the beginnings of a reception.  Sawyer wanted nothing to do with the crowd and honestly, neither did I.  I did chug a glass of punch though.

Five weeks have passed since that fateful Saturday.  Each week I have Sawyer walk down the aisle next to me.  Each week we arrive at the Priest and he gives Sawyer a "What'll it be?" look.  And each week so far, Sawyer has given the slightest shake of his head.  The Priest tells me not to worry.  I should continue to bring him up each week and someday he will Receive.  It may be the 27th time, it may be the 87th, it may even be the 147th, but it is important to give him the chance.

I don't know how long it will take.  Only God knows that.  And perhaps Sawyer.  In the meantime, I tell myself it is okay because Sawyer did Receive his First Holy Communion as if it was his First Holy Communion, His Last Holy Communion, His Only Holy Communion.


Editors note:  Today, December 5, 2015 marks the 30th week since Sawyer's First Holy Communion.  He has yet to take the host again.

Hershey Park Happy. Hershey Park Sad.

The quick intro to this is that friends of mine from high school come to Carlisle every summer to visit family at the beginning of July. Before we actually moved here, we always overlapped.  My friends have six kids and I have five.  The older kids took swimming lessons together until between us we had too many kids to bother with such frivolities.  We just threw them all in my parents pool and let them figure it out.

Now that we live here year round the visit from the other family has been much anticipated for months.  Today they scheduled a trip to Hershey Park and asked that we join them.  As I have been dealing with illnesses all week and I really didn't have the energy to take five kids to an amusement park from 10 AM to 10 PM, I opted for the lesser known evil.  The "sunset ticket" which allowed us in the park from 5 until 10 PM.

Taking several kids, several ages to such a place is always a challenge, but as the kids have gotten older it has gotten easier.  Having a special needs child at one of the most chaotic places on Earth is a challenge as well.  Again, age has made a difference....or so I optimistically thought.

As we got stuck in traffic, I casually mentioned to the kids that although we had left in plenty of cushion to visit Chocolate World before 5 PM (thus not missing any park time as CW is actually outside of the park), to stop there now would lessen the amount of park time and perhaps we should skip it.  The thought of going into the park without first paying homage to the now over-commercialized "factory tour" is apparently as sacrilege as telling the kids there will be no 4th of  July fireworks!  Those of you from Carlisle are well aware of the headline EVERY year in The Sentinel saying "there may not be enough funding for fireworks this year."  It sends my kids over the edge. Every year.  In addition, last year, due to the move, a family wedding, and a monsoon in NY, we missed fireworks completely.  This may be something from which the kids never do recover.  It has been discussed on a fairly regular basis, including during the winter months.  But I digress...

We were not walking through the entrance with out doing the Chocolate World thing.  Sawyer was very excited because this was going to be his third time going through the tour this year!  "And Mom,  it's only July 2nd." Clearly a new record to beat.  Thinking back, there was mention of Sawyer's leg falling asleep and feeling funny, but the whining was minimal and I apparently didn't give it a thought.  Thankfully, the experience was otherwise uneventful.

As we arrived at the gate, someone had to go to the bathroom.  In a large family, someone always has to go to the bathroom.  The fact that four of the six of us had stopped earlier to go did not matter, because said child "didn't have to go 5 minutes ago."

We get through the gate and texted with the friends as to where to meet them.  It was agreed they would wait until we got to the other side of the park....the way other side of the park, to get in line for this years new roller coaster, Laff Track.

I briefly glanced the direction of the stroller rental booth as we walked past.  Sawyer is 8 years old.  We did not go to Hershey last year and I couldn't remember what I did the last time we were at a walking intensive activity. Their Dad had taken them to Hershey Park a few weeks ago and there was no mention of a stroller.  Wow, I thought, have we finally gotten through the need to rent a stroller stage?  I mean, really?  The stage only lasted 16 years, in the blink of a disappearing $20 bill!

Sawyer has improved his willingness to walk greatly.  However, there are still moments where he insists on being carried.  All you perfect parents can just step off about now. He's my youngest kid of five and he has special needs.  The battles I can fight on a daily basis are fought, trust me.  This is not the child you can look down upon and say, "okay, if you are going to lie down in the middle of the park where people will step on you, we'll see you later."  Thus ends the portion of the blog where I defend myself to the reader.

Surprisingly, Sawyer walked the entire way across the park.  There was little to no fussing. By the grace of God it was a cool enough evening that the heat from the pavement was not penetrating the bottom of our feet.  Kids split off and parents drew straws to see who would go where.  Sawyer and I found ourselves alone for a bit.  He kept telling me, "I want a blue thing."  I told him the next time we see a guy selling raspberry lemonade, I would get one.  "No!  THE BLUE THING WITH THE
WHEELS!"  Oh crap!  He wants a stroller.  Did I mention we were on the other side of the park?  The park that has quadrupled in size since I was in middle school complaining about the long walk from one side of the park to the other.

I diverted with the promise of a train ride. Picture if you will a child who loves trains, but does not love loud noises. Noises for example, like train whistles.  For even more fun, let's pretend that oxymoron child has an aversion, no, an abhorrence, for people putting their fingers in their mouths.  A revulsion that can cause a major meltdown before anyone can understand what has set him off.  Now, let's take said child and put him on a train ride where the engineer blows the whistle at every opportunity. And, let's sit the child and his parent facing a Dad and his two children.  Let's pretend the younger child's fingers are lollipops and he cannot lick and eat them fast enough.  Now, to put icing in this proverbial cake, we should throw in a well meaning park worker whose job it is to go car to car and take pictures of the riders before the train starts. One of the things Sawyer hates as much as the finger thing is having his picture taken.  Such was the scene at the one and only ride Sawyer rode tonight.  True story.

After a difficult train ride where Sawyer was closing his eyes and crying while I was whispering to look the other way, the Dad and his two kids couldn't exit the train quick enough.  I got Sawyer off the train and in an attempt to do anything to improve his mood, I allowed him to spend $5 playing 10 games of skee ball!  Nothing makes me happier than watching my child drop quarter after quarter into a metal box so he can roll 9 wooden balls down a miniature bowling alley.  His efforts awarded him 2 tickets.  Two.  The Pokemon stuffed animal he wanted required twenty tickets.  According to my calculations, I should have been able to hand the lifeless waif of an attendant $50 for the darn pocket monster and endured much less pain.  After spending the first half of his $10 game money, Sawyer chose to spend his remaining $5, on one play of Plinko (sans Drew Carey).  He did not win a Minecraft cow or pig as he had hoped.  Instead he won a $2 game ticket for another game.  The coupon was not eligible for arcade games, such as skee ball.  I was a bit concerned he might crumble up the ticket and insert it into the employees nose.  Thankfully, that was not the case.

We met up with the kids and other parents here and there. Each trek more difficult than the last.  Sawyer had a headache, his legs hurt, he wasn't having fun and did I tell you his head hurt?  I left him with my friend and went to a First Aid station and got some chewable Tylenol.  Still on the far side of the park, I asked if there was a stroller rental on this side of the park.  They told me yes, by The Claw.  I had just told my friend that I noticed a wheelchair rental place over there, but I didn't think they had strollers.  The pimple faced EMT assured me they had strollers too.  After a 10 minute walk to the wheelchair rental place, I was told very emphatically that they did not have strollers.  Because I was annoyed at the misinformation, I stopped at guest services and nicely explained what happened.  The woman apologized.  I threw out the autism card and the fact that I had been carrying Sawyer for about an hour hoping she'd have pity on me and have someone bring one that far.  No dice.

Back to my friends who were graciously dealing with Sawyer.  He looked rough.  The pink chewable Tylenol was refused as Sawyer only likes the purple.  There was little to no chance of getting him to take it.  I told him I would get a drink and some fries if he would take the remaining tablets smooshed between the fries and washed down with lemonade.  We left the kids and parents to go on a few more rides as we went searching for food.  The first place only had waffle fries which were unacceptable.  The second place had traditionally shaped French fries sprinkled with crab seasoning.  We were assured (I was getting doubtful with the whole assurance thing) that the fries could be made without the seasoning.  Including random family members who were not purchasing food, there were about 12 people ahead of us.  Behind us was a group of five teenage boys who knew one of the fry boys inside the shack.  Fry boy was either hard of hearing or worried about losing his job, because the yelling at the Plexiglas got louder with each non-acknowledgement of the group.  It became more and more apparent that Sawyer really did not feel well as he didn't complain about the loud voices and crowded line though his body was tensing to the point of shaking.  He lifted his head off my shoulder only long enough to say, "throw up." I quickly excused myself past the family behind us, past TJ's five closest long lost friends, and brought him to a bench.  He stretched out on the bench with his head on my lap. Moving once to instruct me to remove the keys from my pocket, he was completely lethargic.  My friend found us and offered to get a drink.  At this point, I was dehydrated from carrying a 44 lb sack of bones around the park.  She returned and I took the first sip, to make sure it wasn't poison of course, then gave some to Sawyer. When he barely took any, I started planning a trip to the closest First Aid station.

I carried him about 10 minutes to the building which had held the Guest Services office from before.  I asked the more stereotypical EMT if it would be possible to get a ride to the front of the park as my son felt sick and I couldn't carry him that far.  He brought me back to my friend at Guest Services and after she ended her phone call to check on a friends opening night (a play perhaps?), requested transport.  I thought she remembered me, but I never was too sure.  She called immediately and told me to bring Sawyer into the waiting area so he could lay down.  All was quiet for a few minutes.  Then there was the slightest noise. Barely a cough, nearly a gurgle, from Sawyer.  A mothers intuition kicked in.  I lifted his head and asked my new BFF Mary Carol or Mary Catherine or whatever her name was, "Do you have a buck...." And Mt. Saucious blew!  All over the couch, all over the floor, all over everything.  By the time the garbage can made it into the room, the eruption had finished.  Oh, wait an afterblow.  And he's d....definitely not done.  Now.  Yes. Now he is done.  Poor baby.  Poor nasal passages o' mine!  MC couldn't have been nicer, though I did hear her call to see how far the golf cart was.  She brought in paper towels and accepted all my apologies sweetly while telling me that she hates throwing up so she can imagine how awful Sawyer must be feeling.  It was calming.

Enter Mr. Hershey Park!  Golf cart driver, customer service rep, Chatty Cathy reincarnated as a 20 year old male, Matt. He was happy to take us through the back of the rides all the way to the car.  He hit every pothole on the way, but God love him, he made the ride interesting.  He told me how it was okay for him to go against the arrows on the road, how he hopes our experience at Hershey was great, despite, you know, the vomiting.  He was glad to hear we lived in the area so we could be his guests once again.  As we neared the van, he asked Sawyer if he had fun. "No!" He apologized and said, "Well, did you at least have fun before you got sick?"  " NO!"  It was weak, but emphatic.  Matt's enthusiasm and cheerfulness could not be squelched.

"Next time you come it'll be great I'm sure.  We'd love to have you be our guest again!"

Okay, Mrs. Potts.  See you next time!


End Note: As I was pulling out of the parking lot, Josie called asking where I was.  I told her she was going home with our friends because Sawyer threw up and I had to leave.  "Oh, Lyra just threw up too.  Do you want to take her home too?"  I asked if she wanted to go home.  "Nah.  She said she's heading to another roller coaster."