Feeling like my namesake

Mass was pretty hard yesterday.

We'd had a rough night with our youngest grandson, who didn't want to do what he was supposed to do Saturday when it came to taking a time-out, not kicking his older sister in the stomach (hard), laying down at bed time, etc. We were exhausted.

It seemed at first as if Sunday morning was going better. He didn't get up well, but got moving well, went to RE agreeably. But when he got to Mass he didn't want to participate at all, including (especially) observing posture. I kind of expect that from a five- or six-year-old, but he's eight, and is supposed to be receiving first Communion in three weeks. He wouldn't listen to g-ma, again wouldn't respond appropriately to time-out. Oh, mom was supposed to be there, but bailed out - to no one's surprise, least of all her children's. Our grandson then tried to apologize when he realized that his behavior wasn't going to be rewarded with a doughnut, and got upset when that strategy failed. He tried to ask his aunt if he could have one, and since she wasn't aware that g-ma had restricted him from them, g-ma had to overrule the permission she had given him.

Okay, that has gotten me well past Mass. I didn't get to hear Fr. Dave's homily. The sound carries into the Holy Family chapel, but it's garbled, and I could only hear a little of it. I felt like I wasn't even attending Mass. I almost didn't receive Eucharist, I felt so disconnected from the community and from my faith. Of course we had to take the grandchildren home, which we'd tried to tell their mom the night before that we didn't have time to do, but had been cut off by her empty assurance that she was planning to come to Mass anyway.