I returned from a two-week visit to Ireland on September 5 and had not got over my “jet lag” when I found The Interim was awaiting another column. Anything even approaching intellectual activity is beyond me at the moment, so I decided to indulge in mere entertainment and simply talk about my visit home and some of the things that happened.
I try to go home every few years because I have two widowed sisters who like to see their “bachelor” brother now and then. But, that was not my principal reason this time. What prompted my trip was the fact that my niece, at whose marriage I officiated some sixteen years ago, was expecting her “unexpected” first baby – at the age of 37. The mother is 37, not the baby! She was under the impression, based on sound medical opinion, that she could not bear a child. But doctors, like priests, can sometimes err and Mother Nature often has the last laugh and “does her own thing.”
Courtesy
The baby was expected about August 15. But, when I arrived on August 21st, he/she – not “it” – had not yet made an appearance. Perhaps the baby did not wish to upstage his/her sacerdotal uncle and waited “in the wings.” What impressed me was the general joy and excitement – with a little anxiety – which prevailed among relatives and friends. The phone in my sister’s home, where I was staying, kept ringing all day with enquiries. When I asked my niece, Patricia, if she wanted a boy or a girl, she simply said “I want a baby.”
Memorable dinner
On August 22, about eight of us descended on Patricia’s home for dinner. She had invited us. With a little help from her husband, she had cooked a beautiful meal. During dinner, she was perfectly relaxed. The conversation was very varied and the baby was mentioned now and then, but only incidentally. I could not help thinking, as I watched the whole proceedings, that neither I, nor any man I knew, could be so casual – apparently – on the eve of such a tremendous event.
The birth of every new baby is a unique event which can never be repeated. Looking at my niece, I realized that not only are women equal to men, but in some areas they are a little “more equal.” One of those areas is Motherhood. I am convinced that when God called women to be mothers, He endowed them with resources of strength and self-sacrifice that are beyond the ken of man.
We left for home about 11 p.m., wishing Patricia a good night’s sleep. But at 5 a.m., whatever happens began to happen. Her husband bundled her into the car and rushed her to the hospital. At 8 a.m. the baby was born – a bouncing eight-pound boy. His father was present during the delivery and he could not find words to express how much it meant to him. It took us a long time to realize that fathers have rights too.
The Baptism
On the following Sunday my “raison d’être” came into play. I had the honor and the pleasure of receiving the new baby into the Church through the Sacrament of Baptism. One would expect that in Ireland a baby boy would be christened “Mike” if not “Pat.” But not this one. He was named “Burschi, Franz, Daly, Wonjar.” I nearly ran out of holy water! The reason for this unusual name, in Irish parlance, is that his Dad is Austrian. The “Daly” qualified because it was Patricia’s family name. It was meant to be a Catholic baptism. But Burschi Franz did his best to make it a Protestant one. He loudly “protested” every drop of water.
I was very pleased to find that Patricia – who is a very successful businesswoman in her own right – is feeding the baby herself. I am reading a book on breast feeding entitled, Breast is Best. It is by a husband and wife who are both doctors. It explains that breast milks is the perfect good; breast feeding is best for the baby from many points of view, not the least being the “bonding” it creates between the mother and her child. It also shows that breast feeding is good for the mother.
It looks as if God knows more about babies than the human experts who have done so much damage to them before and after birth by theories which are contrary to nature.
The baby takes over
I have often heard that when a new baby arrives, he or she takes over the home and changes the daily routines for everybody. Not only did this baby change the routine of the home, he changed the routine of my holiday.
I usually take a run around the country to visit relatives and friends. But what with waiting for the arrival, the arrival and the celebrations following the arrival, my two weeks flashed by and – in what seemed a few days – I found myself back at the airport waiting to board a 747 for Toronto. But, brief as my stay had been, to use a tired expression, it had been “very meaningful.” I had welcomed a new member into the family; I had received him into the Church. And I believe that my coming over for the occasion had helped his parents realize that we “fatherless fathers” set a very high value on the birth of a baby.
The “jet lag” hasn’t yet worn off; that is why you have been treated to an exercise in memory rather than an intellectual effort.
