The Guarantee

The Guarantee

There’s a guaranteed place for me in heaven.  I’m sure you’ll agree when you hear my story.

When my divorced mother moved us to the city, my brothers and I started Catholic School after being in public school for years.  I was delighted to attend First Friday Masses because we could carry breakfast and later eat at our desks which used up some of our class time. However, the best part of First Friday was we students got to sing the Mass in English and in Latin. I always was thrilled to be able to sing out loud.  Regular Masses on Sunday were sung by the male choir or the organist played in the background when the choir wasn’t there.

Missions were held regularly in our church and the visiting priest/missionaries held morning and evening services for about five days. The congregation members listened to hellfire and brimstone sermons about all the evil in the world and that you must repent to save your immortal soul.  I only attended because I just wanted to sing.   I had planned to walk to the local drug store for a Coke after I was able to sing my heart out.  Unfortunately after listening to the sermon, I was so scared that when they passed the collection basket I dropped in the only money I had.

And that’s why I have a guaranteed place in heaven because I gave my last dime to the Church.