www.facebook.com/lynn.senftnerSunday, September 7,2014
Today was Sophia's baptismal day. Her day to shine in God's love and blessings of a parish enjoying this holy rite as a child of God. Where Sophia's parents, Godparents, relatives, and the congregation promise to help raise Sophia in God's amazing grace and pray for her as she journeys through life. And even though it was Sophia's day, my first post will be about her older sister Lucy, a beautiful, headstrong, bundle of joy. She has a lovely shade of auburn hair and a lovely smile to match those locks. Lucy was not as thrilled about Sophia's special day, in fact, she was downright mad.
Scott noticed the baptismal font was set up and softly whispered to me that there must be a baptism today. I immediately felt a soft pang in my heart. I think most mothers have the special days in their children's lives etched in their hearts. Scott again whispered and asked me where he was baptized. I responded, telling him he was baptized in McLaughlin, at his dad's home church. I didn't continue on with the rest of the story. How his baptism took place on a Thursday afternoon, in a harsh winter storm, with eight of us standing around the baptismal font. How he was not an infant, but had just turned two, and that we chose to have him baptized in McLaughlin because Msgr, O'Connell had baptized Tate and we wanted him to also do Scott's rites. How we had to wait until Tom and Kari were back for Christmas so they could be his Godparents....It was not the traditional scene we were witnessing, but it was what we had chosen for him. Then the tears that find me each time I attend Mass started to well up in my tired eyes. I've been tired for what seems like a very long time, yet it seems like just yesterday that our lives were so drastically altered.
You see, Sophia's baptism day was the same weekend that Tate had been baptized. The first weekend in September. Msgr. O'Connell did a Children's Mass the first weekend of every month and he asked if he could use Tate's baptism as the homily. We agreed and gathered family and friends to our home in Gregory for the beginning of Tate's faith journey. It was a beautiful day in so many ways. We had our parents there and Tate's Godparents, Brad and Shelley. Msgr. gathered all the children up front and spoke to them about their baptisms. We were honored to have Tate part of his message....and Tate cooperated. He smiled and slept through the Mass. It was a blessed day for us as a new family.
I spent the time during the readings trying to block the memories of that wonderful day 22 years ago. The tears have kept me from attending Mass many times over the past year and a half. I often attend Mass in neighboring towns--the tears still flow, but the people there don't know me. As I blinked back tears, Father starts Sophia's baptism. And Lucy, well, she joins me....in tears. Loud, whaling cries as her mom is busy with Sophia. The cries started softly and soon she was competing with Fr. Kopel. And she was winning....A lovely lady, who I assumed was her grandma, quietly took Lucy to the back of the church. I whispered to Scott that I think I should go back and see if Lucy will come with me so her grandma doesn't miss the ceremony. Scott looks at me and tells me to just go ahead. He has had to play the role of sounding board these past 19 months and I know it has been a confusing mess for him. Why should he have to assure his mother that it was probably alright to go back and see if they needed some help? In the past, I would have just gotten up and done this without a second thought. But when you lose a child to suicide, you question every decision--even the simplest ones. You lose every ounce of confidence in your abilities as a parent. I slipped out quietly and headed back to where Lucy and her grandma were waiting out the storm.
One of the many joys of living in South Dakota and communities like ours, is that there are no real strangers, but Lucy is not familiar with me,so this could go nowhere fast. I envision a loud scream and me making the situation worse, but I head towards her. I softly ask Grandma if I could help with Lucy so she can go enjoy the baptism. She takes me up on the offer, and soon I am holding a darling little girl who is still a bit ticked off about the whole morning.
Lucy and I look out the door's frosted window. She carefully checks me out and I carefully keep her out of sight of her beloved mommy. We chase a small fly on the window with her hand. She starts to smile and is intent on not just chasing the fly, but actually killing the poor little guy. Fingerprints decorate the glass pane and the small fly manages to avoid her slaps and pokes. This soon becomes boring and she points to the wooden counter in back of the church. I take her over and she sits happily. The counter is tall and we are eye to eye. Her little feet swing back and forth and she pulls her new dress up to wipe her nose. All is good in Lucy's world now. She has my full attention and seems to sense she is calling the shots. :) Behind the counter are multiple rows of pamphlets for parishioners offering advice on situations and events. They are just so tempting for a toddler. I've actually never noticed them--I've SEEN them, but never actually noticed what filled the space above the counter. Lucy begins her descent on the pamphlets with two hands. Grabbing and pulling them out one by one. The first few drop on the counter then she hands me one. ( I have been so intent on making sure she was quiet and sitting carefully on the counter, that I do not notice the pamphlets she chose to dismantle first.) I looked down at the colorful card and my heart stopped. The title was "Moving On After the Suicide of a Child" or something like that. There are literally about 20 different titles and my new friend Lucy had handed me this one? I continued to let her grab and sort and drop and dig while I cried a few more tears. I pick her up and she allows me to hug her and rock her a little bit. All too soon, her mom Lacey comes back to take my new friend back to her family. She thanks me for helping them out and I tell her it was no problem. That it was not a problem at all...it was a blessing.
What I wasn't able to tell Lacey, was that I haven't been able to hold a baby since Tate died. I have all these amazing friends who are becoming grandparents over the past year and I have yet to jump in and hold these precious miracles.One of Tate's dearest friends has a beautiful baby girl that is named after him, and while I gladly attended the shower, I was paralyzed with grief to ask to hold her. I am just so afraid that I will burst into tears---a combination of joy, jealousy, remembrance of days spent with my boys as infants, and sadness that we will never share in the joy of Tate's grandchildren. I hope my friends understand this, but I am sure some wonder if I'm really that uncaring. I'm not. I'm healing...in my own way and in my own time.
For some reason, God led me to Lucy this morning. I was in "helping" mode and she allowed me to hold her and begin to grab that part of my life back. I like to think that her little hands were guided by God to the "suicide" pamphlet. That He was working through Lucy to tell me that He's keeping watch over me. For some reason God called me to church this morning....He allowed me to reflect on Tate's (and Sophia's) baptismal day, and led me to my dear, new friend, Lucy.
