Prayers....

We had a fantastic weekend at our nephew’s engagement party. Quite a social weekend – we met up for a late lunch on Saturday, then had the party and back to our nephews and his fiancée’s home for a BBQ brunch on Sunday. I did my bit here and cooked scrambled eggs for twenty or so people. Now we have a wedding in a vineyard to look forward to, no hurry here though, it is in 2009.

I had an old family friend’s funeral on Friday – it was both sad and moving. The funeral home were the service means quite a bit to us as on the original site was an electrical firm where Peter served his apprenticeship and then behind the electrical work shop was a house divided in little flats, one was our first home when we returned back to NZ after our OE. So on the drive home I thought (a bit morbid really) that as the address was a significant one to us being our first home that this is where I would want my funeral! Hopefully not any time soon!! Right up to this point I had always thought I would have a religious service (thanks to the teaching of those dreaded nuns that played a big part in my schooling) mainly because you know what would happen to any ‘Catholic’ that had a funeral service outside the church. Straight to the pits of hell! I’m not religious and those nuns had a lot to answer for! As a five year old I was told that only ‘Catholics’ go to heaven and so the fact my mum was ­not one meant she would go to hell – so I used to pray – every night
‘Please God – make my mum a catholic – or else she will go to hell!!’
Sad, sad, sad!! In fact it was a wonder I wasn’t totally traumatized by the thoughts of where mum would end up. All the prayers in the world would not have changed my mum’s thoughts on the church. Despite marrying a catholic, she was anti church. One memory I have is of our elderly neighbour’s house catching fire, she was a member of the church and the priest was told and arrived. He said he would pray for her – LOL mum with her Glaswegian accent said ‘never mind your bloody prayers – give her some bloody help!’ So true! Also this priest – we thought he was a bit of a hunk – this is true! It turns out he thought he was too and I read years later he was arrested for molesting young girls.

Sunday mornings I would also pray
‘Please God – let Dad sleep in so I don’t have to go to church’
Damn he never did, minutes after that prayer I could hear him stir and then call out to us to get ready for church. I used to hate going! Boring, boring…. But if I didn’t go I knew where I would end up!! The only one time I got a little pleasure out of church was the ‘First communion’ where we got dressed up like little brides and I thought I looked beautiful. Photos of the event showed a different story, a slightly chubby seven year old with new big teeth and who’s straight hair had been curled for the occasion.

Also memories of the confession box. We had to tell our sins – I used to have a couple of standard ones – I can still recite them!!
“Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been … weeks since my last confession, since then I’ve been mean to my sister and I have told lies’ Even if I hadn't I would make something up because you had to have a sin or two.

As I got older I convinced Dad I could ride my bike to church – little rat bag I was because instead of going to church I would go down the road and sit by the creek for an hour and then ride home – must have thought Dad was silly but he never ever questioned why he didn’t see me at mass. Little prayer in my head while I was there
‘Please God – don’t let Dad find out what I’m doing’.

Getting taught by nuns meant quite a lot of religion was thrown our way. One day in the class we were asked if we had any questions. Very innocent young girl I was, I assumed that any woman who reached adult hood just happened to have babies – so what if you were a nun and you had one?? I asked….. I got in trouble, told to hold out my hand for the stick and then sent out of the class room – but I really wanted an answer! What would a nun do if they had a baby!! And they just thought I was being smart.

I did not want to go to a ‘Catholic’ college, I begged and begged to be able to go to a normal school – but no, of they sent me to the dreaded college – complete with a panama hat and gloves. I hated the uniform, we had to have our hair short or up. We weren’t allowed to pull our socks up. That also got me in trouble – I was told I had to pull my socks up (in relation to school work I think) I told the nun we weren’t allowed to – oops another detention!

We had a few lay teachers, one was trendy, modern, a breath of fresh air, and I loved how she taught. One of my assignments I passed in got an A plus – this was in the 5th form and she asked if I had thought about university. No way – I was doing the three years and I was out of there!! Just before I sat School C – the nuns called dad down to the school, the standard talk about me – I was wasting my time and the nuns, and Dad’s money – he may as well take me out of school. This got me going so I knuckled down and passed the exam and then I escaped! The last day I burnt all school books and the dreaded uniform. Jobs were easy to get and I ended up in a government department doing data entry. I was happy – it was work and I was saving to go overseas. Looking back I seriously think if I had more teachers like the lay one I got on so well with in the 5th form I may have ended up staying on. But the nuns and I were not a good mix… I found school work quite easy – apart from math’s – I just couldn’t get my head around it – but instead of getting help I used to just have to struggle away. I daren’t ask.

A lot of what they say about nuns being cruel was in fact quite true. Some were lovely but I can also remember being grabbed by my hair- I can’t remember what for. I wasn’t actually naughty during school years maybe just a little bit high spirited. Yet I was caned, given detention after detention and the hair tugging was one of those memories that stay for ever.

The catholic teachings still remain deep ingrained, we married in a church as that was the done thing, also our kids got christened - but that was it, (once again the teaching that babies that weren’t christened ending up in Limbo if they died) I was determined I wouldn’t push religion at our kids. LOL Rachel our daughter made her first communion and we were totally unaware! She had a sleep over at the neighbour’s and they went to church and took her – so she just followed what every one else did. Rachel came home and told us she had been up to get some bread with Anna (her friend) and I cracked up laughing, LOL I didn’t even get the chance to dress her up for the occasion!

So on Friday I talked to Peter about the morbid subject of funerals and said I thought that funeral home would be sort of a sentimental place for me, he had already given this some thought and little did I know he had written down that this is what he wanted. So the church won’t be seeing us at the end of our days – those damn nuns though because there is a nagging thought is what if they were right!!