My mother is Japanese and was raised Buddhist. My father is Armenian and was just raised. After figuring out that they couldn't have children on their own, my parents turned to prayer...i.e. the big G-man. Fast forward quite a bit and you get me. Once my adoption went through, my mom was so happy that she decided to start going to church on a regular basis. That being said, I'm sure you must have figured out that I was baptized as baby. If not, I just told you.
When the babe was born, my mom asked right away when the Baptism was going to be held. You have got to be kidding me...I just gave birth and finally made it home one piece...please let me relax. Well, I definitely did not get in as much relaxation time as I had hoped (the babe's fault, not my mother) so it shouldn't surprise you that I didn't contact our Parish until 2 months later in a panic. "Hello. I am calling to leave a message for the Director of Christian Education. I would like to set up a Baptism for my daughter and it would ideal if that could happen in the next month or so. Please give me a call back at your earliest convenience to discuss this important matter. Thank you very much and have a great day." I can only imagine that when the receptionist got this message she thought my poor babe was dying or something. That was apparently not true because I didn't get a call back until weeks later.
After giving the woman a detailed family history, a lock of hair and a vial of blood she announced that our daughter was scheduled for the October 18th Baptism during the 11am Mass...HORRAY!! Finally, I felt as though I could cross one thing off of my EXTREMELY long "to-do" list. Alas, I neglected the fact that the Church woman had yet to get off the phone with me and was saying things like, "preparatory class" and "selection of god parents"...oh good grief! I never thought getting the babe baptized was going to be so in-depth. It wasn't the class I was worried about, but the selection of god parents. I mean, the man and I are the babe's parents - biological, emotional, physical, etc - but she needed spiritual parents. These folks (the church specified one man and one woman - not 2 of either) would be the ones to guide her when the man and I couldn't. They would talk to her about the inner workings of the church and why Sunday school and Mass were important to her development. I equated these lucky couple to be her "surrogate" parents...her moral compass...because Lord knows the man and I are not even fit to be our own moral compasses - let alone one for the babe.
Selecting a god mother wasn't going to be difficult. As a matter of fact, I seem to recall a discussion in high school between myself and the brunette about her being the god mother to my future child(ren). Proposing that idea to her was cake - and she, of course, accepted. Now, while I do have a lot of male friends, I don't have many who are Catholic...at least none who are close enough that I would entrust the babe's spiritual future to. Narrow that search down to those who live a manageable distance from the tri-county area and that list goes down to...well, none. I grappled with this decision for many days (read: hours...okay, minutes) and finally, I abandoned the search.
"I just don't think we have any good, moral, Catholic, male friends to choose from," I told my husband. "I thought only one of them has to be Catholic. Isn't (the brunette) Catholic? She fills that requirement, so why don't we pick (the mechanic)?" Okay, I admit, he was correct. Hear that honey?! Only one of the babe's god parents had to be Catholic (and provide papers for proof) so we had more latitude with the next choice. "The mechanic," I said, "really?" The mechanic was one of the man's groomsmen at the wedding...and he didn't show up to the rehearsal until AFTER it had already taken place. Ugh. I knew this was going to come back to bit us (read: me) but after a short protest, I agreed. The man called the mechanic and all was set. He knew where to be, when to be there, why he had to be there, what the ceremony represented and how to dress. The man even called the week before, then the night before, as a reminder. I thought all of our bases were covered - alas, I was mistaken.
The day of the event comes and minutes before Mass was about to begin, still no mechanic. Damnnit. I knew this would happen. Called his cell. No answer.
Thankfully, we were able to pull off a Hail Mary play in the final seconds. One of the man's co-workers was in attendance and was chosen at the last minute to be the babe's new god father. I didn't mind having the god father step in...as a matter of fact, he should have been the original choice, though I don't think he would have agreed under normal circumstances. In the end it all worked out. The babe has both a god mother AND a god father. My sanity is now a little more intact. All is right in the world. In case anyone is wondering, the mechanic DID finally show up...approximately 5 hours AFTER the baptism! He was promised the honored title for our next child...though I think the man and I might have to have a talk about that one.