The colloquium Masses stand out in my mind as some of the longest two hour Masses of my LIFE, because, in Salt Lake City that week, inside St. Madeleine's, the temperature was often about 90 degrees, and my autistic son was having NONE of it. I would be in a pew, near the sides, and he would be okay for the first hour or so, but as the temperatures climbed and the Mass continued, his patience would blow out like a cheap tire on hot asphalt going 100 in the desert.
There were moments, during those beautiful Masses, that I sincerely wanted to throat punch my then 8 year old child. He was a beast. But I endured it, and continued trying to redirect him as patiently and lovingly as I could.
My inner editor just yelled, over a bowl of popcorn:
"HEY---maybe you could get to the point a little sooner, this IS, after all, the INTERNET, and people don't generally truck with all that talking and no point..."
Fine.
As readers of this blog know, Mass was a nightmare.
Autism and echoey spaces that require that you be still, quiet and do what everybody else is doing are NOT AUTISM FRIENDLY. Trust me on this. All the good intentions sail down the toilet the minute an autistic child is actually sitting behind you beating his head on the pew because the music is painful (don't mind his professional choir directing musician mother who would also like to be beating her head on a pew, but settles instead for a gruff constipated-looking judgment single eyebrow raise flashed in the direction of the "musicians" du jour up there with their microphones and terrible liturgical ideas....)
Inner editor is at it again: "SO WHAT IS YOUR POINT PLEASE?"
Slow down, I need to write this in order, so people will understand...
"THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO READ YOUR BLOG ALREADY GET IT..."
Fine.
Go back for the back story if you're new around here... it's in the post "Things I did Wrong with My Autistic Son". I'd link to it, but frankly, I have no idea how to find that stuff either, so good luck with that.
"WHAT IS THE POINT AGAIN?"
After three years of hiding from Mother Church, on impulse Sunday, I dug my son's Missal out of the bottom of the desk drawer, threw on a dress, a snood, and a jacket, and we raced to the car and drove like I was on a NASCAR track to the bowels of Pearl, Mississippi, and we went to Mass.
No, we did not take communion, in case you're wondering. I have not been to confession, and I don't believe in the "let's all take a walk so we can get attention from the priest" form of "getting a blessing" at communion thing... It's up there with NO, I'm NOT shaking your hand during the Peace, you disease-ridden child.... Eric was very concerned about why we did not take communion, I told him I'd tell him when we got to the car. So, I was nicer to you, dear reader, than I was to him in the moment...
"HOW DID IT GO? THAT'S THE ONLY THING THEY ARE STICKING AROUND FOR AT THIS POINT..."
Eric was super enthusiastic. He said, as he was going through his Missal on the way to Mass... "This is a GAME GUIDE for MASS." Yes, my dear and darling boy, the Missal is a game guide for Mass---it tells you where the secret rooms are, gives you the scripts to say to open the doors, and tells you at every turn how to properly "DO" Mass... Thank you for the metaphor, I'll never get that out of my head now... but he was so happy.
At Mass, he fidgeted mercilessly, but tolerated the redirections:
Put your arms down.
Use you upper octave voice, that man voice isn't quite there yet, but soon... (WAAAAAAH, he is losing his soprano voice, and the mommy part of me is in agony... )
Put your ARMS DOWN.
Do what everyone else is doing.
NO, you can't put your ass on the pew when you're kneeling..
YES, you CAN kneel for five minutes without needing emergency medical intervention.
PUT YOUR ARMS DOWN!
When you turn pages in your Missal during the sermon because you got bored 10 minutes in... please don't do it in the NOISIEST MANNER POSSIBLE...
But, he tolerated it all so very very well.
Then, we got in the car, and for that nasty interrupting internal editor's edification, here is the "money quote of the day"
"Mama, we need to go to Mass from now on."
Okay, I'll start making a list for confession, and take a deep breath, and stop being a whiny, prideful, brat of God and get my ass back in the game. We have a guide, and everything.
Toodles
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