[I was browsing through some blog archives today and this bit of family history from 2006 made me smile. Some things never change.]
You gotta love these All Saints Day parties. I like to think of them as a healthy reminder that the saints were human beings. Just like us. Just like our children. And that every one of us is called to be a saint too.
On our way to the much-anticipated party last night, I gave my gang of holy heroes what I like to call a Reminder Lecture about polite behavior at social events. When I was through, Ambrose, in full St. Augustine regalia, turned appropriately reflective.
“I don’t know about you guys,” he mused to his fellow saints who filled the surrounding seats of van, “But when I go out somewhere special, I don’t need a reminder to be good, I just am good.”
Hmmmm, interesting observation.
But the good bishop went on. “Once when we were at a party, some little kid bit me on the leg and all I did was pull him off and tell him he should go see his mother.”
Just as I was starting to feel proud of my saintly son, however, he completed the thought.
“At home, though, it’s waaaaaay different. If anyone bites me, I’m fighting back.”
“Oh yes, definitely,” I heard the sweet voice of St. Clare agree from the back. “Fight back.”