Confirmation Weekend

This weekend, after waiting for what seemed like an eternity, I finally went through the motions of being confirmed in First Presbyterian Church. It was even more special than originally anticipated, due to the fact that my mother was able to come as well (she hasn't had her baby yet).
It started yesterday around 4:00 as I was preparing for the night. I attired myself in my black dress with the gray half-sweater over top of it. My nice black shoes were at my mom's house, and so I called her to ask if she could bring them over at some point, as well as to ask her if she would be participating in the night's festivities with us. She eventually agreed, and she said that she would bring over the shoes just as soon as she was done walking and feeding all of the dogs. Meanwhile, my grandparents were apparently on their way to Winston-Salem, though my dad and I had almost given up hope on being able to take them with us to the church that night, as they hadn't arrived yet. However, at around 4:50, I saw their new red car pull up in the driveway from the window in my bedroom, and I could hear my grandfather's loud, exuberant voice as he carried his luggage from the car. I ran downstairs barefoot to meet them at the back door, wearing my dress. After greeting them, I showed them the dress that we bought for me to be baptized in the next day when the official confirmation would occur in front of the entire church congregation. About five minutes after my grandparents' arrival, my mom entered, carrying the shoes. I put them on as my grandparents showed my mother some things that they had gathered for the baby, and soon after, we piled into my grandfather's car and drove to the church. My family was led into the main room of the worship center, while I headed upstairs to meet the rest of my confirmation class in the small room that we were instructed to wait in. It was an oddly-shaped room, empty but for a dozen straight-backed chairs lined against one wall and a window looking out onto Building B and the Sanctuary. I could see people pouring into our building from the parking lot, and I paced around the room, tense: we were expected to deliver a speech that night on "who Jesus is to us," and I clutched the notebook I had written my outline of sorts in, reviewing everything I had written - I was nervous because earlier that day, I had tried to do a practice-run of it with my dad, and I stuttered terribly and could not think of logical transitions between ideas. I greeted the cool seventh-grade girls whom I hung out with at the last retreat, Emma, Anna, and Emily, complimenting their dresses. They held either notebooks or notecards. Soon, after an immeasurable amount of time spent waiting for Molly, Lisa, or Bo to instruct us in some way, we were organized into a line based on alphabetical order of last name; I, of course, was last in line, behind a petite little girl named Megan. As we were standing there, Molly gave us the "run-down" of what was about to occur, assuring us that there was no need to worry, and that perfection was not expected in the least. Then, we marched down the stairs and into the right side of the main room of the worship center - I had left my purse up in the "waiting-room" to be retrieved after this initial part of the ceremony - and we walked up the steps onto the stage, sitting in the chairs which were organized in a straight line before a purple curtain (the color of which Emma mentioned shortly before our descent), facing the audience, who fell suddenly silent with our entry. Molly and Harry Daniel delivered a short introduction and the former began to question each student, "Who is Jesus Christ to you?" or "Please describe your faith for us." Each student went about answering these questions in different ways, some referencing the collages that we created on our last retreat, others speaking from written word, others simply improvising. There were moments, seated on the very end of the row, when I would be overcome with anxiety, and my hands would sweat as I clasped them in my lap; but then there were other times when one of the students would say something humorous, the audience would laugh, and the mood and tension would lighten significantly. I gazed to my right as the students standing up to speak came closer and closer to where I sat. Soon, Megan stood up beside me, read through her three note cards, sat down, and passed the microphone to me.
I eased myself from my chair and began, "When considering the Trinity, Jesus seems to be the most merciful 'part' of God, when you take his great sacrifice for us into consideration. . ." and on and on. A few things that I mentioned were of event, like the Harper Lee quote that I used to reference those Christians who cling to the idea of paradise as opposed to utilizing their time on Earth to be doing good. I also referenced the sermon at Prodigals community on Gethsemane, my poem which I wrote in response to that, and a remark that a fellow classmate had made about Jesus showing his crucifixion scar to his disciples, a remark made to the effect that our identities will be retained when we pass from this life to the next one that everyone is so caught up in. Despite my nervousness and swaying (my mom told me afterward that I was rocking), it did not fare as badly as it could have, and I sat down with a vague air of triumphance. Following all of the speeches, we stacked our chairs and took a few confirmation pictures, with and without mentors, before heading off to dinner in the fellowship hall. During that time, I was encountered by a few people who complimented my speech, including some whom I'd never met, and I was very flattered. One man approached me and said, "You were right on the money, girl; don't stop there. You're on an assignment now. An assignment."
When I ran into Linda, I gave her the thank-you note that I had written for her earlier that day, and over dinner, she presented me with a gift that ended up being the "Jesus Storybook Bible," for which I was very grateful. After waiting in the long line outside of the fellowship hall, we received our plates of food and went to sit at our assigned table, which we shared with Pastor Harry Daniel and Mrs. Daniel. Both shook my hand and congratulated me on my speech, and Grandpa engaged Mr. Daniel in conversation soon after. My dad and I told Mrs. Daniel that we're huge fans of Mr. Daniel's sermons. Dinner passed in a vaguely pleasant way, watching everyone converse with each other, together, which I never get to see. Then, the Daniels stood up, preparing to leave. I had been debating the entire night whether I should ask Mr. Daniel to baptize me the following morning, given that he is my favorite pastor and that his sermons have meant the most to me in this whole process. After hovering for a moment in indecision, I dropped my purse on my chair and nearly ran out of the dining hall after them. I found him waiting outside of the bathroom for his wife. I asked him if he would baptize me the next morning, worried initially that he would be weirded-out, but he seemed to be flattered, and he told me that it would "be a privilege" to baptize me, and even embraced me. I walked back to our table, rather stunned by my success.
After dinner, we walked over to the Sanctuary, where each student was presented a Bible and some flowers, some to keep as souvenirs, and a single flower which we were supposed to give to someone the next day. I gave mine to Linda following this part of the ceremony, thanking her for everything that she had done. Then we all departed.
The next morning, I woke at 8:30, showered, and dressed in my confirmation outfit: a white dress with black sash and lining, decorated with embroidered sunflowers. I wore a white headband to match, and ate some of my grandmother's famous scrambled eggs for breakfast as I waited for my dad to get in the shower. Once we had arrived at the church, I wandered over to the fellowship hall, where a man in charge of a Guatemalan missionary was presenting a powerpoint. At 10:30, we were released, and I hurried over to the Sanctuary, where our class would first be presented. We sat in designated rows on the left side of the room, and Ms. Moyer (who still seems to be pregnant) played some weird French songs on the organ as a prelude, along with a pretty piano piece with bell accompaniment. Our class lined up at the front of the room, was presented to the Sanctuary, and departed for the Worship Center, where we would spend the remainder of the 11:00 service.
We were introduced here in the same way; we all walked up onto the stage in alphabetical order, but before the actual introduction took place, the three of us who were to be baptized stepped forward onto a rug that was set up, and we knelt before the two pastors who would in charge of the baptism. I was baptized first, and Mr. Daniel dipped his hand in the jug of water before placing it on my head and moving on to the next person. Courtney's brother, Chris, was baptized last, by Mr. Horne. After this, the introduction, and a prayer of the mentors and parents over the confirmands, we were all seated in our designated seats, and Mr. Daniel presented a sermon on the three components of a Christian's moral compass that should always be kept in mind in one's faith. After the service, my grandparents, my dad, and I had lunch at the Olive Garden, bringing home our leftovers.
In other news, Saoirse came over to hang out today, and we posed for photographs at my dad's friend Jennifer's restaurant, Mozelle's (this was for advertisement purposes; we were supposed to sit in front of desert plates and pretend like we were having a grand time). My mom had a false alarm today with the baby, and so she should be sent home at any time now.