AWKWARD! Mom Forbids Me to Do This Unless A Nun Approves!

AWKWARD!  Mom FORBIDS It; Makes Me Ask the NUN for Permission!  #humor #school #backtoschool #teacher #student #Bible #earrings #funny

So then… she says “Absolutely not,” with an air of such finality, it would stop Attila the Hun in his tracks.

Because when my Mom says, “no,” she means “NOOOO!”

But I’m a 16-year-old girl desperate to have my ears pierced.

I’ve been lusting after the earrings at the mall for weeks. They have little gold knots – and darling little hoops – and butterflies! Dainty little gold butterflies, people! MUST HAVE.

Attila ain’t got nothin’ on me. I shall not cease my relentless campaign! I shall scourge the earth and annihilate all obstacles until VICTORY IS MINE! – and those precious butterflies adorn my earlobes!

I follow my Mom into the kitchen, where she’s preparing dinner.

I set the table and say, “Mom, WHY can’t I get my ears pierced? I saved up my babysitting money – and I’ll make sure the piercings won’t get infected – and the mall is just—”

“It’s against the Bible.”

“What? The Bible says I can’t get my ears pierced?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says.

(I’m no theologian, but I don’t remember either of the testaments discussing ear jewelry!)

“Where does it say that?” I ask.

She stirs the spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove and says, “The Bible says it’s a sin to self-mutilate.”

Self-mutilate!? I’m not mutilating myself!”

“Well, you want to cut holes into your ears, don’t you?”

“Mom, that’s not the same thing! The Bible just doesn’t want you to hack off your hand or something!”

She arches her eyebrows in that “you say potato; I say po-tah-to” sort of way and returns to her sauce.

Seriously! It’s not that she’s a religious fanatic – I mean we go to Church every Sunday, but she’s not a zealot. But she was raised in a pretty strict Catholic family, back in the days when the Mass was said in Latin.

Lots of hellfire and brimstone in those days.

Lots of hard and fast rules – with clear cut consequences leading straight to eternal damnation.

Pierced ears = self-mutilation = grievous sin = loose morals = immediate downward spiral into prostitution, pregnancy, tattoos, heroin addiction, and *gasp* — skipping Easter Mass.

So I beg and plead and debate and beg some more.

She is resolute. It’s like trying to move Mt. Rushmore just a couple inches to the left. She will not budge.

It’s a sin. It’s a sin. It’s a sin.

I insist that the self-mutilation in the Bible DOES NOT refer to pierced ears! Did.I.mention.the.butterflies.Mom?The.earring.butterflies.are.ADORABLE!

FINALLY, she agrees to CONSIDER it – IF and ONLY IF I consult with a priest or nun to CONFIRM that ear piercing does NOT qualify for Biblical self-mutilation.

Ahhhh! The clouds part, the angels sing: HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH!

Quick! Get thee to a nunnery! Find the youngest, hippest, coolest nun you can find!

All night long, I rack my brain to think who I can ask. My very life depends upon it.

Should I ask our parish priest at Mass on Sunday?

Should I ask one of the nuns who teaches at the Catholic school I attend?

Do I choose the youngest nun – the nicest nun – or the nun who teaches the class with my highest grade?

Finally, I settle on Sr. Rita. She’s not young, but she’s an awesome teacher and I love her class.

All day long, I fidget in my blue plaid skirt and white blouse, my legs shaking a mile a minute.

Finally the last bell rings. The rest of the students file out and I stay behind to timidly say, “Sr. Rita, may I please ask you a question?”

She looks up from her papers and says, “Sure.”

Suddenly I lose my nerve. Maybe my Mom is right! Maybe this IS a sin! I don’t want Sr. Rita to think poorly of me.

“Um…um,” I stammer, looking at my shoes.

“What is it, child?” she asks.

“Well, um, my Mom says that something I want to do is a VERY BAD SIN – and that I had to ask your permission before I could do it,” I say.

Sr. Rita raises her eyebrows, crosses her arms, and stares at me intently. “What’s the sin?” she asks.

“I want to…I want to…get my ears pierced!”

Sr. Rita suppresses a grin, her eyes crinkling, as she sighs with relief.

In retrospect, I now realize she probably thought I was going to ask about having sex — or doing drugs — or committing homicide!

In comparison, piercing ears hardly makes a “ding” on the Sin-o-Meter!

She pats my shoulder and says, “Yes, dear, yes. You may pierce your ears. It’s not sinful at all!”

I beam from ear to ear – (soon to be punctured ear to ear) – and thank her profusely!

I fairly explode with happiness! I share the good news with my Mom, who, trooper that she is, lives up to her promise to take me to the mall now that we have a religious blessing.

And I ensure that Sr. Rita is one of the first to see my darling little earring butterflies!

(Of course, I still end up a coke-addict junkie whore – but that’s completely unrelated to the pierced ears.)

Ha! OK, just kidding! Fear not, Sr. Rita, where ever you are: your decree was sound and just. I’ve not squandered your blessing. My pierced ears and I will see you in Heaven one day. (It may take some pretty heavy-duty negotiating to get me on the admit-list, but I aim to rock & roll up there in the Great Beyond!)

— Darcy Perdu

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(Anything YOU wanted as a kid that was impacted by parental reluctance, outright disapproval, or religious beliefs?  Do you remember back when you got YOUR piercings?)

The Funny Secret the Nun Told Me

Funny Secret the Nun Told Me #humor #sing #church #nun  #school #kids

So then…I perk up as soon as I hear the opening notes of my favorite song. I immediately stop fidgeting with my blue plaid Catholic school uniform.

I grin widely. I love this song! I LOOOOVE this song!

I straighten my shoulders and stand proudly amongst the other 5th graders in our pews in Friday morning Mass.

Here it is, here it is! I joyously sing the awesomely odd lyrics to my favorite hymn:

Sons of God, hear His Holy Word
Gather ‘round the table of our Lord

Eat His body, Drink His blood
Now we’ll sing a song of love

Allelu
Allelu
Allelu
Allelu-u-ujah!

Of course it doesn’t even occur to me that the song’s a bit morbid…
and perhaps even a bit cannibalistic…
what with all the talk of “eating His body and drinking His blood.”

But to a 10-year-old, it makes perfect sense that we’d gobble Him up – then “sing a song of love.” Nom nom nom. La lala lala.

And you have to remember that “Twilight,” “True Blood,” and “Vampire Diaries” had not yet burst onto the scene with their lustful carnal blood-suckery

so this was all just common, everyday slurpin’ up some Jesus juice.

Nothing bizarre here, folks. Just a friendly invite:

Gather ‘round the table of our Lord
Eat His body, Drink His blood
Now we’ll sing a song of love

It’s really just like saying, “Hey everybody, come on over to my house and pull up a chair. Let’s eat Swanson chicken pot pies and drink some Tang – then break out the guitar and sing Kumbaya!”

I smile happily at all the students and teachers crowded into this chapel at our school.

My brunette curls jingle-jangle as I boisterously belt out the chorus of the song.

I LOVE the “Allelu’s.”

I’m really getting’ into it – hips swayin’, face scrunched, eyes closed, crooning away.

Now granted, I possess much more ENTHUSIASM than TALENT –

and, in fact, it’s widely known in my family that I’m tone-deaf –

but I still roar that tune LOUDLY and PROUDLY.

As we file out of the chapel, one of the nuns sidles up next to me, puts a caring hand on my shoulder, smiles kindly, and whispers gently, “You know, God loves the lip-synchers too.”

Oh.My.God.

Did she just say that to me?

Yes – yes, she did!

Is she an Angel of God? My own personal Celestial Messenger, with a note from above –

“The Lord hears ya, babe, and while He appreciates the effort – please remember He is omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent – so no need to actually VOCALIZE your tribute – He can hear you telepathically. So go easy on the eardrums of your fellow humans and just THINK the lyrics, mmmkay?”

At least, that’s how I interpret her remark: “You know, God loves the lip-synchers too.”

Of course at age 10, I don’t realize how hilarious this is – so I just nod piously, with big eyes. I harbor no ill will toward the dear old nun – she is, afterall, the music teacher, quite elderly, with sensitive ears, and seated directly next to my boisterous bellowing at the chapel.

I pledge a secret vow of silence whenever singing is required at Mass – which lasts exactly one week until the next Mass – when I gleefully and loudly rock out to…

Allelu
Allelu
Allelu
Allelu-u-ujah!

— Darcy Perdu

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(Are you a wonderful warbler – or musically-challenged like me? Regardless of your skill level, what’s a song that you blissfully belt out with joyful abandon? Any teachers/coaches offer you some “helpful” hints when you were a kid?)