When you were at Mass when you were very little

[Zundrah]

That’s nothing. When my dad was presented to the Bishop for a blessing before entering into full communion with the Church, I went with him. I wasn’t Catholic yet and I was very intimidated by the entire situation. I had a very bad cough and couldn’t control it despite my best efforts. Part of the service was walking in pairs up the center aisle and bowing to the Bishop - for some reason I was paired with the Deacon I’d only just met and was terrified of. I almost fell over I was so scared. Just as we bowed to the Bishop, I coughed severely (thankfully into my arm). The entire service I was coughing as quietly and little as I could but it was quite loud and very often - everyone including the Bishop kept looking at me. I kept picturing the Bishop leaning over and hitting me with his crozier. Finally the singer sidled her way to the pew behind me and gave me some cough drops :blushing:. I was so embarrassed the entire time. The funny thing is I don’t think I coughed once on the way home. The event lives on as ‘the time I coughed all over the Bishop’ :doh2:.

Oh my, I can feel your shame… poor little thing… (I always feel stupidly concious of myself when I only get a blessing and not the Eucharist)…

I remember being thrilled when I got big enough to be able to see over the pew while kneeling.

Love is Patient

 

[JanetF]

When I was young, in the 1960’s, we were still required to wear mantilla’s, and no pants. I remember wearing matching dresses with my older sister and my mother. I can still picture the inside of my early childhood church with the marble floors, the beautiful crucifix at the altar. I remember one Sunday during mass when I belted out the responses and my mother was embarrassed but didn’t scold me because she knew that Father had just told all the young kids at catechism class the day before to be loud and proud, which I was

Midnight mass when I was younger was actually at midnight, we (have two older siblings) went to bed early, then mom woke us at 10:30, we’d go to mass, come back home and go back to bed…no presents until at least sunrise (mostly because they hadn’t been assembled yet).

Oh, and I remember that the rule from my mom was “if you don’t behave, you don’t get to go to mass” which worked for me as the youngest child, I always wanted to go with everyone else–I behaved in church!.

 

[Beachcomber]

The first time I went to Mass (I wasn’t a Catholic yet), I was maybe 8 or 9 and this was in the mid '60s and a family friend took me along with her to Mass. It was at a seminary and we were the only women there and we were at the back of the chapel behind all these men all in black.

It was all in Latin and the priest was facing away from the people. One of the clearest things I remember is the asperges, when the priest came down the middle aisle and sprinkled everyone. I thought it all very cool and mysterious.

 

[SonofMonica]

Dad was lapsed Catholic and Mom protestant, so whenever I went to Mass with Grandma, I always remembered that I was expected to dress up more than when I went to the Methodist church with my parents, and I remember wondering why Grandma got a marshmallow at the end whenever I didn’t! I swore up and down to my parents that Grandma got a marshmallow at Church, but they insisted she didn’t, and no one would ever believe me.

 

[daeve]

I KNOW my mother trotted me down the hill to Mass from the time I was big enough to walk it…she was about 4’9" tall, and even one block was too much to carry a kid…but I have no memories of Mass until grade school. I can’t recall not knowing what was going on, and because my grandparents who lived upstairs from us spoke an odd combination of Italian and English, the Latin didn’t seem odd to me. My earliest specific memories of Mass are of how hungry I would be. You fasted for 3 hours in the 1950s and 60s, and Mass was at 8am. There was no way I’d be up for breakfast before 5am! We would stop at the confectionary on the corner and get Twinkies or 2 glazed donuts for a nickle. All I needed was a Mountain Dew, and I would have been swinging from the light fixtures. Some kids brought cold egg sandwiches on cold toast, but I could barely stand to be in the same room with those. The other thing I remember is singing. We sang our little lungs out. We had big orange hymnals and little red manuals of prayers. The manuals also had Psalms in them, and we would chant those Psalms. You put a little line over the word when the next note was higher and one under the word if the next note was lower. I still have mine on my desk.

 

[sneakers]

Were you ever wondering what the heck was going on? Why it was always so quiet?

I remember attending mass with my mom when I was small. I was getting ready for First Holy communion and I had my little missal. It was in Latin then. I remember knowing exactly what was happening. I followed along in the missal. I always remember the Mass being so beautiful. I loved mass. I knew it was Jesus in the Tabernacle and that’s why we were quiet and respectful.

That is my memory of mass as a small child.

 

[Mrs_Sally]

I was very well behaved, because we always sat directly behind a lady who wore one of those fox stoles that were popular in the 50s–with little fox paws and little fox heads with bright beady eyes. With a couple of little foxes staring at me I barely breathed let alone moved.

Oh too funny! I can imagine how those stoles would look to a little child–like real foxes ready to get you!

 

[mmm1]

Midnight mass when I was younger was actually at midnight, we (have two older siblings) went to bed early, then mom woke us at 10:30, we’d go to mass, come back home and go back to bed…no presents until at least sunrise (mostly because they hadn’t been assembled yet).

What do you mean they weren’t assembled yet?

Oh, you mean the ones that weren’t from Santa!:newidea: I see now…
I like the priest’s ‘loud & proud’ saying. He sounds like a good priest with kids. I LOVE your mom’s idea about not allowing you to go to Mass if you didn’t behave. Great idea!

 

[Mrs_Sally]

Dad was lapsed Catholic and Mom protestant, so whenever I went to Mass with Grandma, I always remembered that I was expected to dress up more than when I went to the Methodist church with my parents, and I remember wondering why Grandma got a marshmallow at the end whenever I didn’t! I swore up and down to my parents that Grandma got a marshmallow at Church, but they insisted she didn’t, and no one would ever believe me.

Marshmallow! Oh too hilarious!!! I can imagine the conversations on Sunday nights after you went to bed. Mom…what kind of crazy things go on at that church? Dad…Hey, at least it’s not juice and crackers!

 

[Aidan12]

Post a link to the wholesaler…I’ll take 400 of those fox stoles!

Do you think they’ll take a parish check?

I’ll take three, for the three little boys who sit in the pew behind me.

 

[Silverburg]

I remember the bells booming the Call to Mass through downtown and knowing that I would be a parish bell-ringer one day – and I am.

I remember the “black widows” (elderly widows who always wore all black) who sat together up near the dozen or so Sisters of the Most Holy and Immaculate Heart of Mary.

I remember when my parents stopped bringing their missalettes to Mass (the Pauline Mass or the Dialogue Mass was being introduced.)

I remember some people played with these strings of beads and I desperately wanted a set.

I remember the silence…

I remember receiving First Communion and being alarmed at the horrible taste of the host (it was via intinction) and I had only consumed a non-consecrated/non-intincted host prior to that.

I remember kneeling at the communion rail and my mom or dad would motion that I was not to receive. It was gone by my first communion.