So, I’m still trying to decide if I have the moral fortitude, energy, and time to be a confirmation mentor. I’ve talked with the pastor, I’ve had a discussion with the young lady’s mom (who is herself a mentor), and collected the training materials for review.
I’ve decided to come at this decision with the seriousness and precision with which I attack all of life’s big decisions. That’s right; I’ve got a big cup of coffee, some chocolate, Alison Krauss blaring from the stereo, my wicked good slippers, and I’m ready to blog all of my revelations. What better way to make up my mind?
I have a little confession to make. In my previous post, I left out what may perhaps be a salient detail. Actually, two.
The first is that I am a Methodist, not a Catholic. My understanding of Catholicism is that purely by virtue of having divorced I’ve reserved a spot for myself in hell (nevermind everything I did in my life up to the age of twenty or so). We Methodists are a warm, fuzzy, forgiving bunch… the well-meaning but somewhat lazy branch of Protestantism, you might say. God loves everyone! Seek and ye shall find! Probably we didn’t inhale much! Etc.
The second detail that I left out, I omitted on purpose; and I’m not really sure why. I think I may have been wanting some feedback apart from this particular bit of information, or maybe I was still just feeling sort of overwhelmed.
Or maybe I was thinking of the recent event where I was riding along in the car with E (the young lady in question) and her mom and the conversation turned to ear piercing: E wants to get her ears pierced, and her mother has decreed that she must wait until she’s 13 (she’s 11 now). In a bit of maternal solidarity, I pointed out that I’d been made to wait until I was 14, and that 13 seemed very reasonable to me.
“But don’t you have more than just one hole in each ear?” E asked, pointing.
“Yeah, I do. When I was 14 I got just the regular pair piercing, and then I did this second one in my left ear myself, at home, a year later.” E’s mom gripped the steering wheel a little bit more tightly and gave me a sideways glance that singed my eyebrows. “AND that was a VERY STUPID THING for me to do,” I went on, quickly, “and my mother was FURIOUS and I was GROUNDED and it got all INFECTED and then I DIED. So don’t do that.” E giggled and rolled her eyes while her mother snorted.
And we all know that a little bit of laughter goes a long way with me in terms of drawing out my inner NAUGHTY CHILD. Had I stopped there, it would’ve been okay, probably. BUT NO. Foot in mouth? Surely you jest. I can cram my entire leg in there without batting an eyelash, you amateur.
I waited until E’s giggles were waning to add, “But I didn’t get my navel pierced until I was out of college.” There may have been an audible CLUNK as her jaw hit her lap, but I was too busy saying OWWWWW because her mother HIT me.
This is the child they want me to mentor. She is bright, and sweet, and impressionable, and thinks I’m “cool.” Her mom is a dear friend but thinks I overshare sometimes.
She’s also the pastor’s daughter. Ooops!
Of course, that’s why I say things like that in front of her. But is also why I am perhaps feeling the weight of this responsibility even more than if she were someone else. Go figure.
Anyway. I can already see that it’s going to be a constant battle to set my mind to the task at hand. My Mentor’s Guide of “Making Disciples” starts out with the following gem:
What a task! You are invited to begin your mentoring with God as your focus!
Now, I have a couple of problems here. First, I’m not down with the overzealous use of exclamation points unless it’s truly necessary, such as to discuss Target clearance or cute shoes. Second, oh, the syntax. I’m invited to begin my mentoring with God as my focus? Because there’s an alternate guide that suggests I start my mentoring with the classic “Do you ever have that not-so-fresh feeling?” line? Or, I should begin my mentoring with God as the focus, but later we can talk about how burning an Eggo waffle in the toaster will sufficiently cover up the scent of… ummm… other smoke?
I think I’m going to need more coffee.