The Pinches and the Priest

This story is from Linda Benoit, a friend of mine and of many others in my local church. (That's BEN-wah for any of you non-Louisianians out there. *grin*) A woman in her mid-60's, Linda is married to a really friendly, down-to-earth man named Larry who can play a mean lick on a guitar.

Larry and Linda are very involved in our church, helping in numerous behind-the-scenes functions. Together, they have previously received the church's annual Discipleship Award. Both have always had a smile and a kind word to offer to anyone I've seen them interact with. I caught up with Linda after service last Sunday and got a quick story from her while she ate a doughnut in the church kitchen.

"Okay. I grew up Catholic. And so, my mother always said that we had to go to church no matter what. Only way you could not go to church is, you had to be really sick or dying."

I did not learn specifically where Linda grew up but I do know that, down here in south Louisiana, many families are Catholic. Many are seemingly more Catholic as a part of Louisiana culture than in strict practice of the religion, but many are SERIOUS about getting to Mass every Sunday.

Linda continued, "So, one Sunday we went – we were little – and my mother always sat on the right side, and that’s where the priest would come, give his morning message. And my brother was misbehaving, and she kept pinching him! And he said, 'You’re hurting me!'”

"Finally," Linda told me, "after 3 or 4 times, the priest said, 'The lady in the front row who’s pinching her little boy, please stop.'”

I cracked up laughing. "What did your mom do?" I asked.

"Well she didn’t like us anymore after that. Well not really, but we calmed down. And she fussed at my brother and he said, 'But you were hurting me!' And… but we didn’t do it anymore. But she still sat in the front row. I don’t know why…"

"Was she embarrassed?" I probed.

"Oh! She was very embarrassed! She was like… and you have to know my mom… she’s been dead 4 years. She’s ALL-ways right."

Seemingly in effort to salvage my opinion of her mother, Linda went on to say, "And she was one Go… she was one of God’s busiest people. She always flew… we were the first ones there and the last ones to leave. So, I grew up with, um, church."

Childhood memories that shape our perception of our present daily everyday lives. I have my own set of them, and I'm sure you do as well. I believe things like that shape who we are and how we behave when we grow up. And thankfully, despite some of our parents' fears and regrets, most of us turn out okay.

I appreciated this little glimpse into Linda's world!