I try not to think about the things I regret, but sometimes they just stare and stare at me until I acknowledge them. In this case, Jesus was the one staring me down in church last weekend. If it's ever happened to you, you know how unsettling that is. What happened was, I watched a young woman with Down syndrome receive her confirmation with some kids from my parish. She did a beautiful job and I was moved to tears as she recited her responses to the Bishop and proudly made her way back to her pew. At one time, my son Cliff, who also has Down syndrome, attended church regularly and participated in a religious education class. He loved it purely for the social aspect of it, but he managed to learn the Our Father and Hail Mary. I have a gorgeous picture of him on his First Holy Communion day in a pair of light-colored khakis, a green polka dotted tie, and a joyful smile standing in front of the statue of Mary. Or maybe it was one of the saints. Anyway, after the age of 13 we gave religious education the old boot because I just couldn't find anyone who knew how to teach a kid with profound difficulties grasping such abstract ideas as God and Heaven. Whenever someone referred to God as his Father, he'd look at us like we were stupid because everyone knows his dad's name is Ken!
As I watched Katie smile and wave at her parents last weekend, I couldn't help but wonder about what Cliff might have accomplished had I figured out how to continue with his lessons. What possibilities did I close off by taking him out of CCD? What friendships did I prevent just because he couldn't grasp the material being taught? There's just no way to know these answers. But I think if I really examined what I was thinking at the time, I'd realize that some things just aren't meant to be. And that's okay. I would realize that I did my best with what I knew at the time. We all do that as mothers, right?
I guess that will have to be enough.
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