Not what I expected!
Thirty-three years ago on the third Sunday of Advent I was confirmed in the Christian faith. It was the Sunday of joy and I fully expected it to be joyful. It was not. It was a day filled with disappointment and frustration from start to finish.
I was 15 years old, a perfectionist, a rule-follower, in the early stages of an eating disorder, and more than a little idealistic. In my mind, the day I was confirmed would change my life. It would fill me with the joy and peace I was missing. It would make me a good, faithful person. I listened in class and memorized all the bits and pieces of church history and what being a member of a congregation would mean. I was ready and anxious to have this transformative event take place in my life.
As I remember it, the day was cold and foggy typical for Cape Cod in December. I was supposed to be at church early. My mother was going to drive me and stay for the service, which she didn’t regularly do. I did not like to be late for anything so we got into the car extra early and headed down the street. Just after we turned onto the main road, the car died. We were still quite close to home. My anxiety increased as I was sure we’d never make it to church and I would not be confirmed. This was not how my perfect day was supposed to go.
