I got this story from one of the blog's number most faithful readers (hi, Dad!). Let it be known that Grandpa Mark is a tricker and can't always be trusted to tell the whole truth...
I grew up as a Catholic. Attended Holy Rosary Parish and St Bernard’s parish and St Margaret’s school. Every morning we attended Mass from 8 to 9 and then went to school. It was like going to Sacrament meeting 6 days a week.
I was 10 or so and pretty bored one morning sitting in church so I got out my pencil and started writing on the pew. I drew a funny picture of the priest and showed it to my friend sitting next to me. He laughed and we started drawing more pictures. One of the nuns came up and told us to be quiet and saw the pictures. She was not happy, but didn’t do anything to disturb the Mass.
After the service was over we trooped over to school and started class, but the nun came and got us and told us we were going to see the priest. We were scared. We went back over to the church and she sent me in to talk to the priest. As I was going in I told my friend "if it gets really bad I’ll come running out and we’ll meet under the bushes behind the church".
Well it was bad. The priest looked at me and asked "Do you know where Jesus is? (He knew we’d been disrespectful in the Church, which is where we are supposed to feel close to Jesus). Do YOU KNOW WHERE JESUS IS?" Well I didn’t, and I jumped up and ran out of the church. My buddy followed me and we met under the bushes. I said "Jesus is missing, and they’re blaming us!!"
Or something like that.
A marginally good kid doing another bad thing.
Lots of love!
Grandpa Mark
I'm pretty sure he was around this age when this story happened- Grandpa's the one standing on the far right with the fetching shorts and cheerful smile.
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