Easter: What it is Like to be a Priest and a Mom

 Easter Morning

Can you see Madeline's sweet little head between us? 

Madeline, and in fact, all of my kids were seriously clingy on Sunday morning.  After a morning of feeding on Easter sugar (only a few jelly beans after peanut butter sandwiches),a week of late-night Holy Week services, the fabulous excitement of a visit from Nana, what could I expect?  The morning had gone unbelievably well and in fact, later on, the service did as well.  The clothes were all laid out and ironed, the baskets had been hidden the night before, and Xavier gave me an unprecedented half hour to get ready and do my hair.  At church, before the service, the children practiced forming knots in my cincture while I was trying to visit with a parishioner. I was in that Mommy-fog where I am trying to focus while being squeezed by my cincture like a girdle in Gone with the Wind. 

 Before the service, we lined the children up next to us in chairs in the beginning of the service: Dad, Madeline, Mom and Xavier, and then Caedmon.  (We do a form of Chatechesis of the Good Shepherd but everyone wants to be in the Easter service so we don't have chatechesis on that day.)   They listened, sat fairly still and were generally obedient.  Xavier got himself tangled in my stole and for the rest of the day, it was off-kilter, but for the most part, there was peace. 

We switched holding Xavier so I could read the gospel and then the kids and I got settled along with other children in the service around round tables in the back of the "cafetorium" to color during the sermon. (I only preach about once a month right now.)  Xavier took his bottle during most of the sermon so I could listen.  I love hearing Andrew's sermons and never want to miss.

Then, right before the Eucharistic prayer, Madeline started asking to be held.  Usually, this clinginess does not effect bad behavior in her, so I thought, why not keep her with me behind the altar?  She can be close to mom.  I can celebrate with Andrew.  Its' all good. 

Andrew and I find celebrating together, lifting our people to God and feeding them with Christ Himself, the weekly culmination of our ministry together.  We look forward to reading the Eucharistic prayer back and forth and our people often say that there is a sense of wholeness in seeing us both behind the altar together, something they miss otherwise. 

So, there I am, as in the picture, arms lifted, praying these ancient prayers, when Madeline starts twisting up in both my stole and cincture, twirling as an acrobat holding onto a rope.  OK, Summer, concentrate.  Focus.  Prayers again.  Then, a moment later, while Andrew was praying, Madeline leans up and says, "Mommy, I have to go potty." 

Hmmmm.  A three year old who has to go potty is someone who holds a serious amount of power.  She said it straight forward, not whiny.  It was just the truth.  A potty must be found.  There was no wishing this away and no leaning down to ask if she can hold it.  Too distracting.  So, I take her by the hand and lead her all the way out the service, straight to the middle school restrooms.  Potty.  Thanks mom.  Of course.  I love you, Madeline.  I love you Mommy. 

Yes, it is good.  Motherhood and Priesthood all wrapped together is good.  I wouldn't wish it any other way. 

On the day after my ordination to the priesthood, I received a word from the Lord that I would soon have a double vocation:  Priesthood and Motherhood.  I was not pregnant, had not been able to conceive as yet, but was waiting.  It was as if the Lord was telling me not to have a preconceived idea of what priesthood was going to look like.

Priesthood is never more important than Motherhood in our home, but it is like a piece of abstract art, colors all jumpled up, a bit messy, but beautiful. I wouldn't have it any other way.