Tag: jesus

  • Confessions of a Catholic School Survivor

    Confessions of a Catholic School Survivor

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    Surviving Catholic grade school was no small feat—strict nuns, rulers on knuckles, endless confessions, and altar boy mishaps gave us stories for a lifetime. With over 150 years of combined Catholic education in my family, we’ve collected enough funny memories, discipline lessons, and unforgettable characters to fill a pew—and maybe a confessional booth.

    Don’t chew the Host

    When I had my first communion the nuns made it very clear “DO NOT CHEW THE HOST”  well of course I chewed the host.  I had a dentist’s appointment the following week and I was petrified that the dentist was going to have to chisel the residue off my teeth. 

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    Confession – Bless me Father for I have sinned. 

    We had confession once a month. I quickly canned my list that I used for the whole 8 yrs. Said bad words 20 times, disobeyed my parents 10 times, hit my brother twice and lied 3 times. My sentences were usually 3 Hail Mary’s, 3 Our Fathers and 3 Glory Be’s 

    God knows I wouldn’t mention any impure thoughts.  Figured he would smash right through the screen, grab me by the neck and sentence me to multiple rosaries.  Didn’t take long for kids to figure out what priest to go to. The Monsignor was the worst with strong reprimands and tough sentences.  It was easy to get a knell down in his box while the other 2 had long lines around the stations of the cross.  

    The nuns really tried to enforce our spiritual well being and avoid any sins especially the mortals.  The venial could be wiped out with a communion but mortals definitely needed another trip to the confessional. 

    Here are some mandates by the nuns: 

    • If a girl sits on a boy’s lap there needs to be a separation by a phone book.  They were not talking about a Lakeville AR book with a population of 200. Had to be one like a Chicago yellow page. 
    • No ravioli – looks like pillows. 
    • No shiny black Patton leather shoes. Could reflect panties. 

    Talking in the classroom

    Guess I was cut out for sales as I never stopped talking in class. The nuns tried everything to get me to shut up. Ruler on knuckles, eraser in mouth (after coating with chalk), soap in mouth for 5 minutes. Sister Pascal lost track of time so penanced lasted 20 minutes as I was blowing Palmolive bubbles.  Last shot was throwing a cup of BB’s down the hall for me to pick up. When she was done, she threw them again.

    Well, I got back at her.  I got braces with a rubber band to put pressure to pull back the protruding front teeth.  If I opened my mouth wide to the left the rubber band would project to the target.  The white chest pie plate. After three it drove her nuts. 

    Alter Boy Adventures 

    Of course I was also an altar boy. I started in ancient times when mass was in Latin. We were required to learn all responses in Latin. Did not happen. We either faked it or talked in tongues. I never forgot “Et cum spiri tu tu o.  That was supposed to be God’s phone number.

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    Part of our role was to bring the 2 cruets of water and wine to the altar to pour into the chalice. It was made very clear very fast that your excellency wanted every drop of wine with only 1/2 drop of water. Sometimes a priest on Sunday had to celebrate 3 masses in a row. Our role included helping him off the stage after tossing down 3 cruets. 

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    We also served funerals. One boy on our team had a bad day at a burial site. He was leading the procession to the grave carrying a large brass crucifix when he tripped and fell into the grave. The angry priest looked down whispering firmly “Get out of the grave!! 

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    He quickly scrambled to the top but left the crucifix 6 feet deep. “Get your ass back in the grave and get the crucifix.”  The altar boy fiasco lifted the spirits of some of the mourners as there was a cross section of snickers.

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    Limbo 

    Limbo was also very intriguing. This is where you end up if you are never baptized. You’re not in the hotspot south or getting rehabilitated in Purgatory or mingling with the goody 2 shoes in Heaven. They are the ones that always did their homework and seated in the 2 front rows browning the teachers by answering all the questions after dropping their apples on her desk. 

    Limbo is where it’s at! Resort region with always sunny skies, beautiful ocean views and a tiki bar serving unlimited Margaritas at no charge featuring Chubby Checker.  Fellow Limbos were thrilled he was not baptized as he performed daily his top hit “Limbo Rock” with folks trying to get under the stick. Many earth candidates hope Jimmy Buffett missed the early ritual.

    Catholicism – The only Stairway to Heaven

    It was made real clear by the nuns, priests and The famous Baltimore Catechism that the Catholic Stairway to Heaven Catholic interstate was the only way to get to the Pearly Gates.  We felt bad  for the Altman’s (Jewish neighbors)  and dropped off a plate of Brownies

  • Why St. Christopher Got Fired (And Reassigned to Limbo with a Goat Pension)

    With over 500 years of combined Catholic education, our family became familiar with hundreds of saints. But by far, St. Christopher — the patron saint of travelers — was our favorite.

    His medal was firmly clipped to the visor in our 1963 Volkswagen bus, guarding our chaos-filled family road trips. We survived countless outings with no seat belts, no baby seats, and dashboard knobs that looked like medieval weapons.

    Infants laid across seats, kids leaned out windows pumping their arms at semis, hoping for a honk. Our only real “safety system”? A parent’s right arm flinging across the front passenger seat during a sudden stop.


    🚐 Divine Road Trips and VW Chaos

    We thank St. Christopher for helping us make it to A&W Root Beer every Friday night. Dad would pile us in, along with a few neighbor kids, and off we’d go — standing on the seat, heads poking out of the fold-back canvas top, giggling like maniacs.

    One sharp turn? One quick stop?
    Let’s just say, if Dad made those same trips today, he’d be facing 10 to 20 years… with no chance of parole.


    🙏 Who Was St. Christopher?

    If you’re not familiar with the man, Christopher was a tall, strong, good-hearted giant who famously carried travelers (including, allegedly, baby Jesus) across raging rivers.

    For nearly 2,000 years, he was the go-to saint for anyone hitting the road, the sea, or the sky. Pilgrims, sailors, truckers, and your Aunt Marge heading to Atlantic City — all prayed to St. Chris.

    But then came 1969.


    🧾 The Holy HR Department Breaks the News

    That’s when the Heavenly HR Department dropped a bombshell:
    St. Christopher was let go.

    🗂️ The Exit Interview

    The meeting was brief — just Jesus, St. Peter (VP of Operations), and Christopher.

    Jesus:
    “Chris, buddy. You’ve done great work. Really. For 20 centuries you’ve had an impeccable record. Zero accidents during donkey rides in the Judean hills? Impressive.”

    St. Peter:
    “But… with seat belts, airbags, and GPS, your division is, well… obsolete.”

    Jesus:
    “Thanks for your loyal service, but we’re downsizing. No more feast days. No more dashboard gigs. And we need your desk cleared by Pentecost.”

    Christopher:
    “Wait, what?! You’re firing me?”

    Jesus:
    “Not firing. Just… reassigning you to Limbo. Think of it as a peaceful cul-de-sac in the afterlife. Great schools, low taxes.”

    St. Peter:
    “And we’ll continue your pension — two oxen and a goat per month. But you’ll need to sign this NDA. We can’t have the other saints knowing. Morale’s already low since we made St. Valentine cover HR.”


    📜 The Official Reason? “Lack of Evidence”

    According to Vatican records, Christopher was removed due to “lack of historical evidence.”
    Seriously? After 20 centuries of divine service?

    Turns out, he’d already been quietly phased out. His last known miracle? Helping a honeymoon couple in a ’68 Ford Pinto avoid a possum in rural West Virginia.


    🛰️ Why Pray When You’ve Got Waze?

    It’s tough to compete with modern tech. Today, we’ve got GPS, lane assist, emergency braking, and Siri — who’ll gladly reroute you away from rivers or possums.

    Even your dashboard has better spiritual protection than poor St. Chris ever had.


    🐿️ And What About St. Francis?

    Christopher had one final question during the meeting:

    Chris:
    “Why me? I’ve been around longer than Frank of Assisi! That guy just talks to squirrels.”

    St. Peter:
    “Francis is booming. We’re onboarding millions of animals a day — rescues, pets, endangered species. Nobody else wants that department. It smells like wet fur and despair.”

    Jesus:
    “Honestly, we’d love to fire him. But he keeps bringing stray cats to meetings.”


    🏖️ Retirement in Limbo

    So where is St. Christopher now?

    He signed the NDA and moved quietly to Limbo. These days, he:

    • Plays celestial pickleball
    • Leads ghost tours of old highway rest stops
    • Occasionally haunts glove compartments in vintage Winnebagos

    If you spot a St. Christopher medal on someone’s dashboard, now you know:
    It’s a relic from a time when divine roadside assistance meant more than flashing hazard lights and Bluetooth.

    But hey — if your GPS ever leads you into a river, you might still want to whisper a little prayer to Chris. Just in case.


    🏷️ Suggested Tags:

    #StChristopher #CatholicHumor #FamilyRoadTrips #FaithAndFunny #SaintsAndStories #YouCantMakeThisStuffUp