Space, kneel and be praised

There we were exposed or not to the congregation, upon arriving at the side of the few pews where there were the seat spaces, as mentioned, towards the front, there were never quite enough spaces for us to all sit on the one seat so, a little assigning routine would be carried out by our mother. Logistically it sounds easy. Seven or eight children, at least one adult, that is nine to be seated maximum (Always the full compliment, meaning my father as well, on those special occasions). Mother would then begin the distribution assignments, trying to keep the younger ones close so as to keep an eye on them and make sure they didn’t wander, letting the older ones sit separately if there wasn’t enough seats. Mind you, she would ensure they too were close enough to be able to keep an eye on them. Young girls (as three of my sisters were all older than me), must not be allowed to let their gaze wander from the front of the service. There was always a sharp ‘eyes front’ if mother found their eyes wandering around and checking out the local boys who were in attendance.

I don’t believe I have mentioned that my mother was raised in a strict manner in a catholic school/orphanage after losing some of her family in the Second World War. The nuns certainly instilled in her certain practises, which, she happily passed on to us. Serious misbehaviour would collect a swift thwack (thump and whack combined) to the back of the head regardless of being in the ‘Lord’s’ house. This only came about after several warning looks, ‘hissed’ sotte voce warnings, threatening glares and actual naming of the offending or suspected offending party was ignored. There is nothing worse than having your name said out loud, except maybe having your whole name said aloud and probably having your whole name said aloud in church was slightly worse. You really knew you were in trouble. Even the priest knew you were in trouble. And he couldn’t (and probably wouldn’t) help. But if it wasn’t really your fault, as was often the case, you tended to keep on until the arrival of the ‘Thwack’.

It was not unusual for the older sisters to sit behind us (as directed to by our mother) and then take advantage of the odd poke, under-seat kick or teasing whisper to entice one of the younger children to react and thereby collect the first warning look. Remember, they had an hour to find a way to cause trouble. Of course if the tables had been turned, we would have done the same. The opportunity to cause a moment of embarrassment could happen during any of the sitting, standing and especially kneeling phases of the service. And often did. But once again the classic phrase…… “Just wait till you get home” would issue from my mothers clenched teeth. Another reason rushing home after the service wasn’t a priority.

(Continued tomorrow)