Well, every grade has its perks, and fifth grade was no exception! This was the year in which Sister Euphrasia designed a fabulous reward for those who had been good all week, measured by the number of gold stars collected against the students’ individual names on a poster board at the front of the classroom. There were stars of all colors, make no mistake about it. Levels of excellence: the red, good; the blue, better; the silver, very good; and AH, the gold star, the mark of excellence. Many would try but few would actually receive the grand prize, a shoebox, lined with white satin, and into which was placed a shoebox sized Virgin Mary, in her blue garb, white head gear, with outstretched arms carefully doling out “grace” and in Sister’s class, measured by counting the accumulated gold stars for each week. The “winner” would get the honor of housing Mary in her home ALL weekend long.
It was a special privilege and one that could not be taken lightly. One must find the perfect spot to house Mary, the Mother of God. I tried every week to be better than the week before. My line on the posterboard was just absolutely filled with silver stars, peppered with blue, and one or two gold. Try as I may, I just couldn’t seem to achieve the ultimate goal of housing the sacred plastic statue. It must be returned, Sister said, as it had been given to you. We all understood the rules. With 60 plus girls and boys in the class, it was daunting. I always kept the prize in mind. I would treat Mary well. I had just the place for her in our home. It would be difficult with three siblings in a small tenement apartment, in the city, but I would house Mary in the bedroom on a special shelf my Mom created for me way over the bed so the younger kids would not harm Her.
I had dusted the shelf all year, and all year it remained empty, until this one Friday deep into the Lenten season. Did I mention I had perfect attendance? …all year? Well, this one Friday, Palm Sunday to be exact, I had accumulated four gold stars, five silver stars, one blue and one red star. Only the gold counted. The winner, Donna Hayden, had six gold stars, and all the rest of the class three or fewer. Well, Donna’s mom had been sick, and Donna, being the oldest stayed home from school to help her mom. I know what you’re going to say. It wasn’t fair, but I was desperate. By default, I won! Mary, the Mother of God, was all mine, on this holy Palm Sunday weekend. I was elated, walking on water. I remembered Jesus had done that, so I always used that expression when something good happened to me! When I felt invincible. I did! Instead of keeping my head in the sky, it turns out, I should have been looking where I was going on the way home. You guessed it! Not a pretty picture.
Back to the trembling, and ecstasy I felt when Sister placed Mary, laying in satin and on a sacred Palm branch to commemorate Palm Sunday weekend! I knew I had won the jackpot! I was walking home with a bag load of homework, no matter the special weekend. There were no breaks in a Catholic school, and we didn’t expect any. Well, I started on my way, with my friends. I precariously balanced the shoebox, which by now was well worn and had a loose and crumbling top, on my heavy, khaki schoolbag, the one with the flat nylon rope that you pulled close. I stopped every block on the way home to check Mary’s condition, knowing this was a sacred privilege, and now feeling the burden of this responsibility. And then it happened, without warning, and so fast I didn’t have time to drop my books to catch Her.
I d-r-o-p-p-e-d HER! It just slid off my book bag, just that simple. And then my book bag toppled over in the ensuing fray. Slo-mo! It happened and my stomach dropped through my body and I vomited! I just knew her head had fallen off or something more tragic! I stood frozen in place, unable to get my thoughts together. By now, all my friends had peeled away to their homes. I lived the furthest away. As I extracted the school bag from the shoe box ,but one thing was clear. The box was mangled beyond repair. It was old anyhow, so I felt sure I could live with that and find another shoe box. But the box had also landed in a mucky puddle as it had rained steadily all day! I could wash Holy Mary, and the satin bed. I didn’t know what to expect! Well, my worst fears had come true. Although Mary’s head and other plastic body parts were intact, there was a slight crack that ran from the top of her head to the bottom of her long blue garb.
I felt the enormity of what I had done, and knew there would be dire consequences for this awful sin I had committed. I bet it was a Mortal sin to deface the Blessed Virgin Mary. For almost the entire year others had protected Mary, and I, in one trip home, ruined the statue. Well, I sobbed, more like wailed, big, gigantic tears of remorse and guilt. I just knew this would be an entire Rosary in penance when I confessed to Father this huge sin.
I managed to hobble home, wet cardboard box, mucky brown satin, and cracked Mary. I didn’t care what the consequences as much as my letting Sister down, and all those after me who would not have a chance to claim Mary for a weekend. What would the class do now?
My mom saw the desperation on my face and the mess in my hands. She was a kind mom, a gentle mom, and comforted me in my tragic hour of need. Mary, after all was still functional, and she placed Mary in its proper place. She placed candle votives and flowers on the shelf, and for the weekend I forgot what I had done. Mary was in a place of honor and she looked beautiful and safe now! Mom replaced the cardboard box and bought some new fabric. Actually it looked much better as a house for Mary. Mom was an artist, not a professional one, but very good, and she decorated the box. What a beautiful home.
I brought the box and the statue back to school on Monday, expecting the absolute worst to happen. I cried as I told Sister of my mishap. She hugged me and told me how beautiful Mary looked in her new home. Then she told me to close my eyes, which I did immediately. She went into the storage cabinet and pulled out an identical Mary, which she said she knew would be needed eventually. Just for emergencies she said. Mary was stunning! She looked more beautiful than I had even imagined, and I didn’t care from that moment on if I ever got a gold star again. In fact, silver stars were my favorite! …and that’s the truth!
No comments:
Post a Comment