Goddaughter was confirmed with all the pomp and ceremony they could muster and I was her sponsor. Torn with emotion at leaving No 1 Son behind to do his own thing; but delighted that Goddaughter was making the commitment and that I am still part of her spiritual life we embarked on the weekend.
It should not have been that long a journey but having stopped to buy trainers and the frequent “I need a wee” stops. We at last reached the A27, the home straight. I began calculating in minutes the time until we arrived. I could almost smell the fragrant honeysuckle climbing the pub wall where we were meeting everyone. Then we joined the queue; an accident, the traffic slowed and we were in the middle of it.
We missed the pub. Finally tea and cake made the journey seem nearly worthwhile. Goddaughter and siblings excited about it all and delighted that we had finally arrived. In-laws and out-laws had arrived and the party was in full swing.
Goddaughter showed me her dress, a flatteringly beautiful sea green dress to be worn with a neat little black shrug. Then she produced her shoes! Three inch black stiletto heels, elegant, sophisticated definitely; but at 14 she already stood several inches above me in bare feet. Who was sponsoring who?
The following morning breakfast and lunch ran nearly into each other in order to get everyone fed, showered and dressed in their finery ready to be at the church by 3pm.
Arundel boasts a beautiful Cathedral dominating the ancient and historic city. A fitting venue for a special occasion. We arrived in torrential rain, kindly dropped at the door to save our skimpy dresses and inappropriate footwear. Inside, we were ushered, by ancient guardians of the Cathedral, to our seats in ceremonial style. Confusion set in when they discovered we had more than the allocated 8 people in our party. A lot of conferring and shaking of heads went on while they discussed the matter, looking on in disbelief at the embodiment of a large catholic family!
Leaving the ancients to confer I led extra members of the family to a side chapel where not only did they have a better view than us, they had a door to a hallway and conveniences which apparently were used repeatedly during the long service. I being an important part of proceedings had to return to my allotted seat.
The pomp was well done, the choir resplendent in voice together with the magnificently restored organ and passionate organist. The ceremony stage managed in true high Catholic style adding in all the extras to make this day a most unforgettable experience. Incense burned and diffused into the congregation causing many a coughing fit; as the modern catholic reacts to the allergens in the strong smelling oils.
I protest at the length of ceremony. Remembering the late start and that people had travelled to get there, not in the least ourselves. Two hours of religious service was a long time for the many younger members of the congregation to behave, not to mention the elder members who by rights should have been taking their afternoon naps just about then. Of course many of them might have been and I mistook it for piety. What of the candidates themselves; Goddaughter I know was showing increasing nerves as time went on; I am sure she was not the only one.
With dwindling churchgoers, the opportunity to encourage people back in should be a priority at such an opportunity. Don’t do away with the pomp and ceremony, build on it; include a few favourite hymns the congregation may have heard. Siblings could be invited to the alter with the candidates to involve them. Maybe I am missing the point and keeping the strict rigidity of the ceremony is how the church hopes to encourage people back.
My role as sponsor was relatively easy. Goddaughter handed me a sheet of instructions to follow and as long as I remembered the confirmation card and put the right hand on the right shoulder I would be fine. I hope my usefulness extended to calming her nerves and keeping her focused on the ceremony. A look of horror crossed her face as we advanced up the side aisle to stand in front of the bishop; when she realised she would have to walk up two steps in her heels and worse walk back down again in front of everyone. An achievement she accomplished with unexpected aplomb.
A far more worrying feat for me was when I discovered that the sponsors stand on the step below. Goddaughter will never know the effort I put in to reach up and rest my hand lightly, barely touching. The rest of the congregation were subjected to my whole body reaching and stretching a practice I usually leave to my Pilates class.
We made it through and it was still raining as we emerged spiritually refilled to look across the hills of Sussex. The hour later than planned we made our excuses and departed for a journey which again should not have taken that long but sat nav (that’s another story altogether) led us through tiny villages and hamlets on a slow and picturesque tour of southern Britain.
Tiggy