vivere in comunità {living in community}
in my wildest dreams, i never thought there would come a Monday afternoon when a deacon just months away from being ordained a priest would set a bottle of white wine down at my lunch table in a seminary refectory, with the wry commentary: "here, Kate. you look like you might need this."
the truth is, i didn't need the wine -- although you bet i had a glass, as is the Italian custom at pranzo (lunch). but i did need the sense of solidarity and encouragement. i needed the subtext of his statement: you are seen, and you matter. we all need it!
on this particular afternoon, the girls and i had joined the seminarians for pranzo as we do every Monday. the twist on this day was that Nick had gone out for coffee with our friend Andrew and our newer friend Josep, the organist at St. Peter's Basilica. so it was just me and the girls. which is usually fine, but the fates were conspiring against us. i had picked Greta up from school at 11:45 AM and let the girls snack a bit as soon as we got home, knowing that they'd both be hungry before the official start of pranzo at 1:15 PM. despite my best efforts to leave the apartment early for our two-minute walk to get to the refectory, Greta suddenly wanted to change her shoes and her outfit before we left, and Cecilia refused to walk but also refused to be carried. we finally conquered the world's shortest longest journey and arrived in the refectory at 1:16 PM (after the meal had been blessed and everyone had been seated).
now, the purpose of our Monday pranzo is just the same as the purpose of the family meal in your own home. it's a time for community -- for emotional and mental nourishment, as well as physical. the meals are served family-style by a rotating waitstaff of seminarians (who then eat their own meal afterwards). the conversations are lively, and in fact, Greta always wants to sit on the periphery of the room since it's not as loud! while Nick joins the men for pranzo almost every day, the girls and i are invited to join one day a week. i always appreciate the opportunity to get to know our seminarians better, and of course it's nice to eat a three-course meal without having to cook or clean up! since there are six seats to a table, we usually have two or three men who opt to sit with us at the "kid table".
on this day, however, everyone was already sitting down. i was looking around to see if we could join anyone, but all the tables were full. so we traipsed across the room to sit down at an empty table, when Cecilia loudly announced, "I HAVE A POOP!" thank goodness for the conversational noise! so i dropped our coats off at the table, and we went back across the refectory to the restroom. diaper successfully changed, i herded the girls back to our table, and then Greta piped up. "i have to use the bathroom too!"
by this point, the other tables were all well into their salad course. like everything else at the NAC, pranzo is a well-oiled machine, and i caught a few sympathetic smiles from seminarians as they watched us walk back across the room to the bathroom again. when we arrived, Greta confessed with a sheepish smile that she hadn't actually needed to go after all.
so, for the third time, we walked back to the table and sat down. i was actually wondering if we should just go back to our house, because we clearly were failing at the "community" part of pranzo if we weren't going to be able to sit with anyone else. and it was at that moment that Deacon Gregory approached with a pitcher of water and asked if we needed any help. with probably more eye-rolling than was strictly necessary, i regaled him with the gripping tale of our odyssey. bless his heart, he laughed, chatted with the girls, and then scanned the table to see if anything was missing. the tables are usually set with oil and vinegar, a bowl of freshly grated Parmesan cheese, and a bottle of house wine with a screw-top lid (the really good stuff only comes out on special occasions!). since we were at a peripheral table, we didn't have those accoutrements. i thanked him and told him we only needed the cheese. he duly reappeared with the cheese, and then thirty seconds later came back with a bottle of vino bianco. i usually don't have wine at pranzo, and for a few minutes i felt like i shouldn't. like if anybody saw me drinking a glass of wine, they'd think, "boy, she can't handle her children and she has to drink to cope with them!"
well, for one thing, i don't think anyone was thinking that. they probably didn't even notice. and if they were? it's partly true. sometimes i can't handle my children, if that means controlling their every action and bodily function. there's always room for improvement in parenting! and it is humbling to parent with an entire community of single men and women watching. to be clear: not one of them has ever made a snide remark or even given us an annoyed look, not because there has never been cause for them to be annoyed, but because they are amazing. i'm truly grateful to live in such a supportive community.
and so, i poured myself a glass of wine. and the meal proceeded just fine. Greta only ate a piece of fruit, while Cecilia devoured the spinach pasta and half a pork chop. and when the plates had been cleared, several of the seminarians and one of the nuns (who happens to be a licensed psychologist) came over to say hi and see if i needed any help with the girls. and we got their stickers and notebooks packed up, wiped off sticky faces and fingers, waved goodbye to the Italian kitchen staff, and walked home. i don't know if the girls could sense how my mood had changed. i think every mom has those moments of legitimate frustration, and that feeling is intensified one hundred-fold by the knowledge that other people are seeing both how your kids behave and how you react. the girls probably were picking up on that from the time we entered the refectory late and i realized we had "failed". kids sense these things and then they just have to push the envelope a little (just like it's human nature to keep poking at a bruise).
but that uncomfortable lunch gave me an unexpected gift. i've always liked to be the helper (hence why i love being a PA). and of course, it's so satisfying and empowering not to need help. but when a nun delights in Greta's sticker art, or a random stranger helps you carry your 40-lb grocery carrello up three flights of stairs because the escalator is broken, or a deacon brings you a bottle of wine, a miraculous thing happens. the imagined Them becomes a real Us. and that, my friends, is community.
the truth is, i didn't need the wine -- although you bet i had a glass, as is the Italian custom at pranzo (lunch). but i did need the sense of solidarity and encouragement. i needed the subtext of his statement: you are seen, and you matter. we all need it!
on this particular afternoon, the girls and i had joined the seminarians for pranzo as we do every Monday. the twist on this day was that Nick had gone out for coffee with our friend Andrew and our newer friend Josep, the organist at St. Peter's Basilica. so it was just me and the girls. which is usually fine, but the fates were conspiring against us. i had picked Greta up from school at 11:45 AM and let the girls snack a bit as soon as we got home, knowing that they'd both be hungry before the official start of pranzo at 1:15 PM. despite my best efforts to leave the apartment early for our two-minute walk to get to the refectory, Greta suddenly wanted to change her shoes and her outfit before we left, and Cecilia refused to walk but also refused to be carried. we finally conquered the world's shortest longest journey and arrived in the refectory at 1:16 PM (after the meal had been blessed and everyone had been seated).
now, the purpose of our Monday pranzo is just the same as the purpose of the family meal in your own home. it's a time for community -- for emotional and mental nourishment, as well as physical. the meals are served family-style by a rotating waitstaff of seminarians (who then eat their own meal afterwards). the conversations are lively, and in fact, Greta always wants to sit on the periphery of the room since it's not as loud! while Nick joins the men for pranzo almost every day, the girls and i are invited to join one day a week. i always appreciate the opportunity to get to know our seminarians better, and of course it's nice to eat a three-course meal without having to cook or clean up! since there are six seats to a table, we usually have two or three men who opt to sit with us at the "kid table".
on this day, however, everyone was already sitting down. i was looking around to see if we could join anyone, but all the tables were full. so we traipsed across the room to sit down at an empty table, when Cecilia loudly announced, "I HAVE A POOP!" thank goodness for the conversational noise! so i dropped our coats off at the table, and we went back across the refectory to the restroom. diaper successfully changed, i herded the girls back to our table, and then Greta piped up. "i have to use the bathroom too!"
by this point, the other tables were all well into their salad course. like everything else at the NAC, pranzo is a well-oiled machine, and i caught a few sympathetic smiles from seminarians as they watched us walk back across the room to the bathroom again. when we arrived, Greta confessed with a sheepish smile that she hadn't actually needed to go after all.
so, for the third time, we walked back to the table and sat down. i was actually wondering if we should just go back to our house, because we clearly were failing at the "community" part of pranzo if we weren't going to be able to sit with anyone else. and it was at that moment that Deacon Gregory approached with a pitcher of water and asked if we needed any help. with probably more eye-rolling than was strictly necessary, i regaled him with the gripping tale of our odyssey. bless his heart, he laughed, chatted with the girls, and then scanned the table to see if anything was missing. the tables are usually set with oil and vinegar, a bowl of freshly grated Parmesan cheese, and a bottle of house wine with a screw-top lid (the really good stuff only comes out on special occasions!). since we were at a peripheral table, we didn't have those accoutrements. i thanked him and told him we only needed the cheese. he duly reappeared with the cheese, and then thirty seconds later came back with a bottle of vino bianco. i usually don't have wine at pranzo, and for a few minutes i felt like i shouldn't. like if anybody saw me drinking a glass of wine, they'd think, "boy, she can't handle her children and she has to drink to cope with them!"
well, for one thing, i don't think anyone was thinking that. they probably didn't even notice. and if they were? it's partly true. sometimes i can't handle my children, if that means controlling their every action and bodily function. there's always room for improvement in parenting! and it is humbling to parent with an entire community of single men and women watching. to be clear: not one of them has ever made a snide remark or even given us an annoyed look, not because there has never been cause for them to be annoyed, but because they are amazing. i'm truly grateful to live in such a supportive community.
and so, i poured myself a glass of wine. and the meal proceeded just fine. Greta only ate a piece of fruit, while Cecilia devoured the spinach pasta and half a pork chop. and when the plates had been cleared, several of the seminarians and one of the nuns (who happens to be a licensed psychologist) came over to say hi and see if i needed any help with the girls. and we got their stickers and notebooks packed up, wiped off sticky faces and fingers, waved goodbye to the Italian kitchen staff, and walked home. i don't know if the girls could sense how my mood had changed. i think every mom has those moments of legitimate frustration, and that feeling is intensified one hundred-fold by the knowledge that other people are seeing both how your kids behave and how you react. the girls probably were picking up on that from the time we entered the refectory late and i realized we had "failed". kids sense these things and then they just have to push the envelope a little (just like it's human nature to keep poking at a bruise).
but that uncomfortable lunch gave me an unexpected gift. i've always liked to be the helper (hence why i love being a PA). and of course, it's so satisfying and empowering not to need help. but when a nun delights in Greta's sticker art, or a random stranger helps you carry your 40-lb grocery carrello up three flights of stairs because the escalator is broken, or a deacon brings you a bottle of wine, a miraculous thing happens. the imagined Them becomes a real Us. and that, my friends, is community.
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| speaking of community: a throwback to the Christmas party, when the seminarians surprised the girls with gifts. (photo credit: PNAC) |
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| the Thanskgiving table |
I usually laugh and remember our growing up years when you tell your stories, which usually make my day better, Kate. Today I cried. God bless you <3
ReplyDeleteAwww, I hope they were a good kind of tears! God bless you, too, Leslie!
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