The Blessing of the Cross

I’m Catholic but wasn’t raised in the church.  Welp, actually I started out in the faith and was baptized Catholic. When my parents divorced, that was the end of two relationships, my dad with my mom and my dad with the Catholic Church.   Divorces were so shunned in those days no matter the circumstances surrounding them.

One concept I picked up from the early days of that faith was the love of God and the power of prayer. My Grandma Gliatti was devout in faith and tried her best to instill it in her grandkids.  It hit the mark with me. After exploring many faiths, I found myself certain Catholicism should be my chosen religion.  No, I do not agree with everything but, the practice of how they experience ‘service’ feels like home to me. It is structured; each element plays a part in the faith journey and exemplifies my faith. 

Critical to this faith in Catholicism is making the sign of the cross on the forehead and saying the words “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” It is one of the highest forms of blessings, the Holy Trinity.

I read recently about a parent that was concerned they were not instilling the faith of Christ into their child’s lives. I think every parent asks themselves from time to time realizing mortality and bad things happen to good people. Most of us want our children and our children’s children to know the One, the higher power, that will always be present, God.

From the day I became Catholic, almost every night with both my daughter Christina and my son Michael, I gave them the sign of the cross on their forehead when I put them to bed. This started back when they were babies and continued through-out their lives with me.  Even as high school students, if I snuck in at night and they were asleep, I would make the sign on their head. I wanted them to know God is watching over them and God to know I was blessed to have them there in my house to make that sign!  

Whether my kids practice Catholicism or not as adults, whether they attend an organized church, read the Bible, whatever, my sign, my cross was my hopeful way to instill in them faith of God.  How they choose to experience it, follow it, express it, I have enough faith to allow them that choice.

One night, I was quiet as can be and when I pulled my hand back from their head, a little voice said back, in the darkness of night, “thank you.” 

My prayer is that when I’m gone, they each will, at the end of a long day, sometimes wish for me to be there with them. That they will lay on their bed, very still with their eyes closed totally surrounded by darkness, and just feel, ever so slightly the brush of my fingers on their forehead knowing I am with them always.