Welcome to the Catholic Church

Ever since we met our friend Colleen three years ago, I've been encouraging her to visit our beloved Catholic Church.

 

Colleen is plenty spiritual. Jesus and the Bible and church play big roles in her life. She attends church weekly and Bible study figures in her life.

But you know us Catholics. It just seemed to me, since I've gotten to know our friend, that there might be something “even more” for her.

I’d say, “No pressure,” and grin, repeatedly inviting her to Mass. It wasn't like she was against coming with us, though. It just didn't happen for the longest time. She lives in Laramie and her schedule can’t allow much time for visits in Greeley.

Finally it did come to pass. Colleen called and said, “It looks like if I’m going to visit with you and Laura this weekend, I’ll have to come to Mass with you.”

Wonderful. Dream come true.

Colleen met me a few minutes early, and we ended up waiting in the narthex for the previous Mass to end.

We visited. She told me the latest about her job and her condominium, this and that. I tried to describe my roles during Mass – as a Lector and possibly an Extraordinary Minister of the Eucharist.

Suddenly, it became obvious Mass was about to end. There was rustling and bustling, and the celebrant was pronouncing the closing announcements.

Here comes a little boy, maybe 10 or 11, in a big hurry down the stairs, probably headed for the restroom. He stopped halfway there at the landing and looked at us like a deer in the headlights.

And threw up. Voluminously. He’d had milk before Mass. Lots of it.

I turned and looked at Colleen. Her facial expression was blank.

I said, “Welcome to the Holy Roman Catholic Church.” She stayed for the Mass, but we haven’t had a chance to discuss her impressions.