My Godmother is not your average Godmother, but what Godmother is?
I was baptized at the age of 37. My wife and children were baptized a year earlier. A neighbor is their Godmother.
When my time came, I thought hard about this choice. I wanted a Godparent to be into it. Not with physical gifts, rather emotional gifts. Priceless. Things to appreciate and cherish in your heart.
I have had a friend for over twenty years. We know all about each other, never dated, but were always open, honest, good friends.
When my family moved to Alabama, she stepped up and convinced her boyfriend to drive one of the trucks to North Alabama. She trailed in a 3rd vehicle.
We had cell phones, but they were archaic compared to today’s phones. They could make a call. That is it. Apps? “Can you hear me?” was the only app that mattered.
One truck developed a problem. I took the bad truck. Boyfriend and eventual Godmother drove over 10 hours to a place they had never been.
I drove the problem truck. Over 18 hours. Plus, they engine was not broken, but the turbocharger did not function. My vehicle hit a top speed of 40 miles per hour over a 400 mile drive.
Eventual Godmother and boyfriend made it to comparatively rural North Alabama. I was nowhere to be found. But we accomplished the mission. No GPS. Just maps. But we did it. I thanked them both and never forgot their kindness. Friends can do. Great friends do because they want to.
And then we kept in distant contact for years. Emails. Rare phone calls.
My family moved back to New Orleans in 2005. We had two kids ready for elementary school. The public schools in New Orleans were terrible at the time. Private and catholic schools are very difficult to get into. Parents often enroll children at birth in various schools in New Orleans. My wife and I did not do these strongly suggested actions.
Who did I know in the private/parochial education system? 1 person. My eventual Godmother was teaching music at a Catholic school. We were doing these events in April, with the idea of moving back to New Orleans that fall. School starts in early August. The odds were strongly stacked against my kids getting into school for the fall. Despite this, eventual Godmother got my wife and I an audience with the headmaster. Sister Rose was a Catholic nun and I sensed not to be mess with this lady. My personality is light hearted with deeply serious streaks. At the time, my wife had earned 5 degrees. Everyone earned her initials behind her name. The only initial behind my name were Jr., given at birth. For some reason, I sounded perfectly, passionately education focused at this meaning. 3-minute monologue about the wonders of a Catholic education. Sister Ruth looked directly at my wife and asked, “Does he believe this?”
My wife responded, “Yes, and he has since we have met.” Realize I only went to Catholic school 1 year, but I loved the structure.
By miracle, we got into the Catholic School. School started in August 2005. On August 30, 2005, Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans. By miracle, eventual Godmother’s and my house received comparatively little damage.
We both had to scramble. Godmother job-hunted. I went school hunting. We both found good, blessed, places.
Godmother, choir at another Catholic school. My kids into a Catholic elementary school within walking distance to our home. I found out later that over 200 kids applied to this school and somehow both my children we entered with less than 20 post storm kids.
My wife and I decided to be a Baptized family. Kids through school, wife and I by classes. 1st year, 3 parts got baptized. 2nd year, my turn. I did all the classes and considered who to ask to be my Godmother.
There was only one choice. And I was going to keep on being Jewish .
I asked her in a unique way. “We live in a time of ‘Bi.’ Bi lingual, bi coastal and bi sexual. And anyway, apart from sexually, when you ever known me to be ‘straight?’”
She giggled and asked if I meant the Baptism. If I was serious. And replied honestly, “Yes.” I was serious and I am.
The ceremony was wonderful.
And she became my Godmother.
And something has happened that I would not have believed.
Our relationship has blossomed and deepened.
She has been there for me with MS. Saw me in hospital (only person I wanted to see). And she and now husband (the boyfriend who drove with her to North Alabama) brought me food and daiquiris in the hospital.
Bless her for that. And bless her for saying Yes to being my Godmother.
As I write this, it feels like a love letter.
And it is.
Power to the People.
Power to the Cure.