I prided myself on being a “good kid.” One of those you can count on. I remember when I was nine or ten I would
stand in the Ballard lobby area and open doors for people.
Being nice was instilled in me from a young
age. Was this something that was
intrinsic in my upbringing or just something I learned going along?
Nice guys do, indeed, often finish last – and
we often get “friend zoned” during those awkward high school years when the hot
girl(s) we’re attracted to are only interested in the bad boys or the hot
clueless guys and I’m stuck listening to them lament that so-and-so doesn’t
like them, or doesn’t take them out anywhere and blah blah blah.
So, yeah, it’s not all peaches and cream being
the nice guy, the good kid, the one “everyone can count on” because sometimes
you don’t want to be nice, or good, or countable on. Sometimes you want to skip church or tell
your friend you don’t have time to talk (or most likely listen) and sometimes
you just want to eat cinnamon rolls, by yourself, while watching terrible films
– but I digress.
When I was 16 or 17 and squarely in my “good
kid” phase I had made a number of friends with kids at church. One of the kids was a gal by the name of Katy. She was completely and totally adorable and
just a year or two younger than me. I
liked her. A lot. If we could have dated, I would have been
happy with that. She had started going
to our local church youth group and she had gone to our regional church
functions and she was fun and sweet and she saw something in me that she
liked. Maybe my “goodness?” (((shrug)))
As she delved deeper into her faith she decided
she wanted to be baptized and asked me to be her Godfather. How could I refuse her? But when I asked the priest if we could be
boy-friend/girl-friend after I pledged to be her Godfather he said: “No.”
(Now, of course, 30+ years later I realize that’s probably not in any
sort of biblical or liturgical writings strictly forbidding this but, yeah, at
the time it probably sounded a bit sketchy.)
So I bit my tongue and did the right thing and on that wonderful Sunday
morning (maybe Easter?) I pledged to be her Godfather and to see that she was
brought up in the Christian faith and life.
See, it says so RIGHT HERE:
When all have been
presented the Celebrant asks the parents and
godparents
godparents
Will you be responsible
for seeing that the child you present
is brought up in the Christian faith and life?
is brought up in the Christian faith and life?
Parents and Godparents
I will, with God's help.
AND THIS!
Celebrant
Will you by your prayers
and witness help this child to grow
into the full stature of Christ?
into the full stature of Christ?
Parents and Godparents
I will, with God's help.
To make a long story short, or to keep this blog
at a reasonable length, I failed.
Failed. Failed.
Katy and I stayed friends through the rest of
high school but then life interrupts and things happen and excuses are made and
we completely and totally lost touch.
I have very few regrets in life and not
following through with the above is one of them (I even included this, kind of,
in the film I made: “Daylight Saving
Time” – check it out on Vimeo.com).
Sure, maybe I didn’t truly comprehend what I
was getting into when I said I would be her Godfather. Maybe the depth of the pledge skitted along
the surface like a skinny stone on water.
Maybe I still hoped we’d date. I
don’t know. I’ve run out of excuses.
Years went by and I lost touch with that entire
group of friends. Babies were born and
raised. Jobs were won and lost and I
wondered about Katy and my lack of commitment.
Then, finally, I made the effort. A chance meeting or conversation with one of
the group of friends lead to a phone number or an e-mail and I called or
e-mailed her.
It would have been great if after losing touch
for 20+ years I found her to be a good solid Christian living the good life and
accomplishing all those things that I pledged to do (WITH GOD’S HELP FOR GOD
SAKES!).
Alas, she had struggles. She had run into some hard times and things
had been rough. Even if I wasn’t her
Godfather at least I could have been the ear on the other end of the phone to
listen or help in SOME way. You know,
that whole “nice guy” thing that I aspired to be. Could I have eased a burden? Could I have helped? Could I have given some half-assed
advice? Could I have just BEEN
THERE? I sure as hell could have…but I
wasn’t.
She still lived nearby and we planned to meet
but, even then, I failed on that. It was
as if it was all so much easier to kind of pretend that it never happened, though
the hole in my spiritual heart reminded me.
Years passed from those conversations and I
took solace in her words of “That’s okay.”
Sure, at 15 or 16 she probably didn’t fully understand the commitment
found in baptism and I, certainly didn’t fully understand the commitment found
in being a Godfather.
Eventually we found each other on Facebook and
have been Facebook friends since.
Have I seen her in person in 30+ years? Maybe it’s about time I stepped up.
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