Confirmation

I had already decided I wasn't going to go to church today, as today was the day this year's class was going to get confirmed. It was just too painful. But at 10:15, fifteen minutes before the service was supposed to start, Delia came to me in tears. "Mom, I want to be there."

My jaw dropped. "What?"

"They're my friends. I should be there to support them."

I stared at her hard. She looked wobbly, but determined. Surely she can't ask this of me. "You don't have to come," she told me quickly. "You can just drop me off."

"Are you sure? Forgive me, but..." I winced to be so blunt, but it had to be said: "I don't want you to go and then decide it's too much and make a scene."

She nodded. "I'm sure."

I sighed. I hope I don't regret this. "All right. I'll drop you off, and I'll just hang out at the coffee shop down the block."

So that's what we did. I came back when the service was over and waited for Delia in the narthex. The other confirmands were there, milling around in white robes and with carnation boutonnieres, receiving congratulations. A bag had been set out for each on a table in the narthex, where members of the congregation put congratulatory notes. A cake was being carved up and the pieces distributed.

Delia came out and came over to me for a hug. "I've talked to Pastor and to Erica (the Faith Formation leader). I've decided to be confirmed after all."

I nodded. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I just wish I had made up my mind in time so I could have been up there with my friends."

We talked with Erica afterward. She'll have to do a faith in action project and come up with her faith statement. "You won't have to wait until next year. We'll just pick a Sunday and you can make your confirmation then."

"And you can have the white robe and the boutonniere," I said. "And your godparents can be there. It will be a real confirmation, just like today."

"And I can have my friends put their hands on my shoulder?" Her voice wobbled as tears ran down her cheeks.

"Of course."

I drove her home as she continued to cry. "You remember the parable that Jesus told, of the two sons whose father asked them to work in his vineyard? The first said 'no, I won't!' But afterwards he was sorry and went to do the work. The second agreed to go, but he didn't. It was the first, Jesus said, who did his Father's will. And remember the story of the workers who were hired throughout the day? The ones who started at 5:00 earned the same denarii, the same as the ones who had been there at the beginning."

She nodded, mopping her face.

"This reminds me of when you were born," I smiled, even as my own tears welled up. "My water broke, but you took thirty-six hours to show up. And remember, you missed your own black belt exam, but you ended up getting your black belt anyway."

I smiled at her and stopped the car to give her a hug. "That's what you've always done, honey. You do things in your own sweet time."