Spring is here, and it is time for First Communions. It reminds me of when my children made theirs. It was an exciting time, but it was also stressful. I am fire phobic, and I still can’t shake the fear every time I see little girls with longs veils line up behind each other holding LIT CANDLES.
The most stressful First Communion event I remember, though, is helping my son make his Communion banner. I am not an artsy/craftsy person at all. Neither one of us wanted to do it, but one day he had to stay home from school. He was not too sick to do a project, so I told him we had to do it. I had bought the necessary items: various colors of felt, fabric paint (I think it came in tubes), and something called tacky glue. The banner with stick and string was provided.
I was nervous because I knew all the other mothers would look at the banners and judge them. I knew this because I planned to look at all the other banners to see how ours compared. Mothers judge mothers. It is not how it should be, but it is how it is. I think we do it more from our own insecurities than being intentionally mean.
So, my son and I tried to think of a simple design. We used stenciled letters for his name. We cut out a cross and used the paint to try to make it look like it was shining. I thought I could draw a chalice easily enough to represent the Blood of Christ. Then, I thought, “We could make a loaf of bread. How hard can it be to make a loaf of bread?” We chose our colors–dark brown for the crust and a cream color for the bread. We drew and cut and glued. When we were finished, we looked at it, and we looked at each other. “It looks like a cave,” one of us said. “It kind of looks like a loaf of bread too, though,” the other answered. It became one of those optical illusions where you can see different things at different times. At first, we were worried because we had already glued it down. Then, we had a brilliant idea. We could say it was Jesus’s tomb! The cream colored “bread” could be the stone to be rolled away. We added a white circle next to the chalice as a host, and called it finished.
Even though our loaf/cave was unrecognizable, we were glad to have it done. I look back now and realize how silly I was to worry. The important part of the day was not how our banner compared to anyone else’s. I should not have judged myself or anyone else. Mothers need to encourage and support each other, and when we need help, we should ask for it. My son is an adult now, but we kept the banner. We still don’t know if it looks like a loaf, a cave, or a blob at the bottom, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we have a memory of a good day—a mother/son day.