Yay God!

Well, we've learned our lesson yet again. By choosing convenience over reverence,  the Family C has once again bumbled Sunday Mass.

Let me back up. We moved over the summer and while we stay connected to our parish through Mass and our lay ministries,  we wanted somewhere a little closer for the usual Sunday mass. Easy Peasy!  They're all the same, right? Isn't that what Catholics say? "I love my faith because in the Mass, I greet the same Lord in the same manner over and over again.

Well I am here to tell you that in Fort Worth, there is a parish where the Lord greets you in an entirely different manner. Pre-Mass hilarity, a boisterous band, jokes and laughter, the birthday song at the end of each Mass, visitors stand and introduce themselves and enjoy a brief chat with Fr. X (names have been changed to protect the blogger) before the final blessing, drums, Eucharistic ministers giving blessings...it's just a gas from start to finish. On the occasions we attend Mass at this parish, we spend more time giving one another alarmed looks than we do praying.

So today we thought we'd try a different-but-still-not-as-far-as-St. X  parish. We ended up being about five minutes late, but crammed into a pew as a baptism was getting underway. This was sort of a small church, and it actually didn't resemble a church at all. That should have been our first clue, but it was actually our second. The first clue was that we were attending Mass at St. Sunday Party's sister parish. (Like you've never heard of St. Sunday Party)

So we're off and running at 8:40am. Claire proceeds to spit up all over me. Andrew comes in after parking the car, sans diaper bag. So it's going to be one of those Masses, is it!? I take Claire out into the vestibule where a very nice woman introduces herself and follows up with, "Yeah, we've gone to Saint X a few times, but it was just so serious there!"

Shock. Panic. We've traded Saint Sunday Party for Holy Mayhem. And Andrew is nowhere to be found as I try to contain what's got to be the funniest look I've ever worn across my terribly expressive face.

Happy Birthday? Check.  Except they've traded it for some crazy "God bless your years" song. Visitor welcome? Oh yes. Except that this time, Fr X is so insistent that there are newcomers that he badgers the crowd until someone gives in. Chatty ushers? "Ya gotta go for donuts after Mass! That's the only reason people come to church!" Horror.

My God, my God...why have you allowed the creation of donuts? I'm pretty sure that donuts are the bane of Catholic life. Of course, the pews would be pretty cold without the promise of donuts after Mass...

Saint Sunday Party, pray for us!