Polish Catholic vs. Southern Baptist Christmas: How to survive the Clash of the Titans

I grew up as a Southern Baptist.  Christmas, was and still is, one of the most precious, glorious, sacred and holiest times of the year. Easter is the “most high and sacred”, representing the resurrection of Christ, the Son Of God; however, Christmas is of course where it all started, right? 

When I was growing up, during the Christmas holidays, we Southern Baptist have the beginning of Christmas season start as Advent.  Usually 4 weeks before Christmas Eve.  Christmas Eve entailed not only the Christmas Tree, Bing Crosby records constantly playing on the radio, mom singing in the kitchen as she made cookies, cakes, and pumpkin pies for our Christmas Day feast but also the Christmas Eve service at the Baptist church we attended.  It was awesome.

Dress up in your finest church clothes (usually with a little sparkle) and come in to the doors with reverence (that means be quiet in my moms interpretation) and humbleness.  You’re given a candle, which my brothers and I played with constantly until time to use them – then it was just cool to have an open flame in your hands, tilting the wax candle just enough so it would drip on your fingertips or into the palm of your hand.  My brothers and I would look at each other and giggle just a little when the wax dripped – we were in an unspoken but understood competition between each other to see who could stand the hot wax on your hand the most, without acting like it hurt (which it did). Part of the competition was to do this WITHOUT getting “the look” from dad….if dad gave you “the look” – you were doomed to receive a good talking to that made you feel like the scum of the earth – just before you got a few whacks on the behind from his belt after church.  NOT a good way to start the evening, but we were stupid enough to push that envelope every year.

After a brief time of readings from members of the congregation and Christmas hymns, the Lords Supper followed, which meant waiting until it was your rows’ turn to walk up and partake from the Deacons standing at the front,  the little bread crackers and grape juice (we called them “sacraments”) representing the Body of Christ with the unleavened crackers and the Blood of Christ from the fruit of the vine (grape juice), and take your holy sacrament back to your seat and wait until everybody else received theirs. The Pastor recited the Bible from several books such as Matthew, Mark or Luke or  perhaps from Corinthians…I’m not positive on the fact of which book the pastor reads from but either way, it was used to remember his sacrifice on the cross of Calvary as he gave his body and shed his blood for our sins and reminds us of an opportunity to obey a command of Christ and to recall his sacrifice for us, his presence with us and his certain return.

When you’re a kid, you know all of this because you are instilled with it from infancy throughout adulthood…..but when you’re a kid – well, lets just say I was going through the motions to please SANTA CLAUSE, because I knew he was watching me through his magical snow-globe, and I also knew that when we returned from the church service, we were going to get to open presents from each other!  My understanding was that we did this to clear out room from under the tree, so SANTA could leave HIS presents.

Christmas Day was chaos. Up promptly at 5:30 a.m. running back and forth between my brother’s rooms giggling, guessing, jumping up and down – making noise to purposely wake up our parents… Let me say to you now, that the time between when a kid gets up on Christmas Day to open presents brought to him from Santa and the actual time parents let the kid(s) enter the living room – is the most powerful, and commanding time a parent can have in the WHOLE YEAR.  If we entered before they said it was alright – we received a spanking…..not a good way to start Christmas, I promise you that!!  

After presents were opened, the phone calls began.  One of us had to quickly take a bath, get dressed and make up our beds while the other sibling spoke to Grandma and Grandpa or some other relative on the phone.  My brother and I had it down to a science and switched the phone off like a baton in the Olympics and going for the gold.  After we completed all of that, the family began coming over.  Miraculously, my mom and dad managed to get their showers, get dressed and make their bed.  Later, I realized that they were accomplishing this while they made us wait to enter the living room earlier in the morning!  Mom would be in the kitchen cooking and talking to the women, while dad was in the living room with us and the men in the family – pretending to watch us while mom cooked, but really, we were on our own to play with our toys while dad and uncles and Grandpa talked football, politics and the latest lawnmower they saw at the hardware store.

Christmas was good growing up.  Those traditions stayed in place until I grew up and left home.  When I was single, I would return to my parents’ house and stay with them during the holidays; going to church, opening presents Christmas Day, having coffee with mom and although the family didn’t come over anymore, it was an awesome day spent with my mom and dad, usually ending up with the 3 of us working on a puzzle at the kitchen table until it was complete – which was usually around midnight..

When I got married, my husband introduced me the traditional Polish Catholic Christmas.  The first couple of years he humored me by going to my home church and sitting with my parents.  The last time we went to my home church was when we left there and my husband was literally pissed off.  “Why are you so angry Honey?” I asked him. “Because the audacity of your ‘Pastor’ wearing kakis on Christmas Eve – AND – he crossed his legs while he was sitting up there!  AND – what the hell was he thinking showing Charlie Brown Christmas on the screen?!! I mean – what the hell?!” “You Baptist have it all wrong…..Christmas isn’t about Charlie Brown!”  he said. Note: The pastor was trying something new to relate to the younger generation that year.  Anyway – my husband said “Next year, I’m going to take you to a Catholic church, and show you what Christmas Eve service should be!”

Sure enough, the next year we went to a Catholic church.  But first, let me tell you about a heart-warming POLISH tradition, of which we practice still today.  You see, the Polish traditional Christmas Eve incorporates several symbols.  My husband is a fantastic cook and enjoys cooking, therefore, on Christmas Eve here is how it basically goes:  We start with an odd number of courses, usually 5 to 7 courses, having one at a time each hour, beginning at around 5:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve – which is usually around the time the first star appears in the sky, representing the Star of Bethlehem – and continue until midnight and then it’s time to attend Catholic Mass.

I set the table with a white tablecloth (that represents Mary’s veil) and place a piece of straw under the cloth, representing the manger where Christ was laid.  An extra plate is set at the table for either the Holy Spirit, or the spirit(s) of dead relatives that may come by to dine with us on this special night.  All of the courses are meatless.  The foods are to represent the four corners of the earth – mushrooms from the forest, grain from the fields, fruit from the orchards, and fish from the lakes and sea.

We always begin with Borscht, which is a beet soup and with a dollop of sour cream – awesome.  Followed by fish, then pierogies,  then mushrooms, then clams…..by that time, we’re usually so full, we end up with around 5 courses and use the rest of the time listening to Polish and American Christmas music, dance, clean up the kitchen, etc.  But before each course is eaten, my husband will bring out the Oplatki (oh-PWAHT-kee).  Not a bite of food is eaten before the “breaking of the oplatki”.  My husband takes the oplatek rice wafer, (that has been blessed – in Poland and shipped over – that my husband orders directly) that has a scene stamped into it of the manger scene.  Anyway, he breaks it and shares his piece with me.  He then says this.

“This emphasizes that we pray all sorrows and breeches may be healed and vanish; that forgiveness is exchanged; that joy may reign.  We are truly “one in the Spirit!”.  We are one in the Lord.  Amen.”

One thing that I personally think is cool, is that after supper, if you have animals, or if you don’t -  left outside for critters such as squirrels, raccoons, whatever may be in your area, they get the leftovers with a piece of the wafer included to ensure their health and fine offspring.  Also, at midnight, Polish tradition says that God gives animals a human voice, so they too, can glorify God on this holy night….but it’s bad luck to overhear them!

After supper is complete, we blow out the candle.  The Polish believe that if the smoke goes towards the window – it foretells the birth of a baby (somewhere in your family); if it goes up, well then you should expect a wedding.  Finally, if the smoke works it’s way over to the door – funeral. That one’s a bummer…

Around midnight (if we haven’t had too much wine) then we head for Catholic Mass.  Stay with me here…..Oh.my.God….  it was like nothing I had ever experienced.  Without going into too much detail, in a nut shell – it felt like I was at the gates of Heaven.  Robes finely decorated in gold, silver, red and green, the Priests walking down the middle row to the pulpit swinging incense.  There’s another little fella behind the Priest that carries a large cross on a pole.  The eco in the sanctuary created by the choir boy’s angelic voices makes it sound like angels are singing down on the congregation from the ceiling.  There’s a lot of stand up – say this, sit down – say that – stand up again and say something else, (which got a little annoying), then you hear the Christmas Message by the Priest.  After that, we walk down to the front in silence one by one and partake of a ROUND thin wafer (much larger than what the Southern Baptist use), get blessed by a Bishop and drink from a goblet of wine.  REAL wine. Then we proceed to our seats again.

I liked it.  I understand why my husband was so upset when he went with me to

my home church.  He was right.  This really does feel like a Christmas Eve service. 

So – what do I do now?  How do I tell my mom that I like the Catholic Christmas Eve service better than the Southern Baptist service?  When my mom found out I went to a Catholic service, she was a upset!  I could tell right away this was gonna be the “Clash of the Titans” between my mother and me and how was I gonna handle this?  After convincing my mother that I wasn’t about to actually JOIN the Catholic church, I explained that something in me had changed since I went to Midnight Mass that Christmas Eve.  Finally, I found where I felt Christmas.  I explained to my mom that for the first time in my life, I felt as though I really participated in Christmas Eve and for the first time - - it felt like it was a holy night.   She thought about that statement for a while – even getting up from the couch and in silence, poured herself another cup of coffee.  She walked back into the living room with 2 cups of coffee.  Hers, and one for me.  She sat down on the couch, looked into her coffee cup for a minute.  “I guess you’ll be going with him from now on to his church, huh?”  “Yea, probably will mom.”  I said. 

“I guess I can accept that.  Just remember where your roots are.  There’s nothing wrong with being Baptist, you know…but I have to say that I’m glad Christmas finally came to your heart.

“Yeah.”  I said.  Mom took another sip of her coffee and said with a grin “Did you see that new puzzle I got us sitting on the kitchen table?”

Who's Your Buddy?

As everybody's already painfully aware, everyday more and more company's are laying off employees.  I've been laid off now for 17 months.  Yep - 17 months.

The company I worked for was connected to the construction industry; therefore, we were some of the first in a long line that is still unfurling to be let go.  I worked for the company for 8 years. I'm sure that's not too long to some of you, but it was to me and I had planned on being there until I retired.


During that time, I made some (what I THOUGHT) were some really great friendships.  As it turns out, as time passes, fewer and fewer of those friends and I really keep up with eachother.  So that is my question: What happens to friendships after you're laid off and how can you keep them going when either both of you have been laid off, or just ONE of you were laid off?

What is the meaning of true friendship?  Who is my buddy?

I do have a few friends that I keep up with on a regular basis.  I was the first to be let go; so me and my friends that were still working would meet for lunch pretty much on a weekly basis and they'd tell me all that was going on at work, what I "wasn't" missing, who was having trouble with the boss and why I should be glad I didn't work there anymore.  All of that was usually followed by "You look great." or "Wow! look at your tan!"  I admit, I was rested more than usual because I wasn't getting up at 5:00 a.m.; instead, it was 6:30 a.m.  I wasn't going through the stresses of traffic, the stresses of schedules, working late, or the lack of a vacation.  The tan was from working in the yard because I was now the landscaper and took charge of mowing the yard to release my anxieties and frustrations from losing my job. I was thinner because I was working my tail off and sweating in the summer heat and was constantly moving now instead of remaining sedentary all day except to get up to use the restroom or eat lunch.


Later,  another friend of the group was laid off; she is the "Angry One"....  Still today, she obsesses over office gossip and prays daily that the business will go under.  Then, another friend in the group was laid off.  She's raising a new (her first) child, which she had just before they laid her off.  She's gone through her adjustment period like we all do - - but she's alright.  She's not angry; she, like me, sees the bigger picture of our country's economy as a whole. She is an aspiring writer - and in fact, will be joining me on this blog to give her opinions and observations about life, parenting, and other things very soon. She's my "Level-Headed" friend.  


The last friend in the group, is still employed by the company.  She's the "Emotional One" - and by that I mean she cries at the drop of a hat, lives for drama, is always there to give you a sobbing whoas-me snapshot of her life, is and has been depressed and on medication for about 15 years now.   It's incredibly amazing to me that we all have been there for that person, let her borrow money, (never to be returned) let her cry on our shoulders, shared our lunches with her - - yet - - would you believe that she doesn't bother to contact any of us?  And guess what?  She's still alive, managing just fine, and still employed.  

The 3 of us who were laid off (along with 1000+ others in our company) still stay in contact; although we are lucky by the fact that our husbands still have their jobs with their respected businesses.  We're all struggling though and of course, things are very tight for all of us.  Yet, the friendships have changed.  What used to be a fairly tight 8 year relationship has branched off and morphed into a different kind of relationship....a support group.


The "Angry One" and I communicate, but it's on a superficial basis.  I still listen to problems she's having, marital issues she faces with a husband that travels with his job, but comes home on the weekends, her loneliness, the latest plots by her evil step-daughter and the latest gossip she's heard about the office and how she's just waiting for this one, or that one to be let go.  She doesn't know (or ask) about what's happening in my life too much.



The level-headed friend, the writer, and I actually have two-way conversations.  We support each other.  And that is what's so very important during these times in our world.  I believe there are two kinds of support groups; one is your family, your spouse and the support they provide that is your bedrock.  The second group is the support of your friends.  I believe it's true among women that we MUST have a support group that will listen to ALL of the details of what you're going through.  I'm lucky to have that.  Although things have changed a little between us simply because my husband and I don't have children, she is a few years younger than me, has started her family; she is involved in lots of things that we're not regarding parenting and everything that goes along with that wonderful world - - we reach across our paths to sit at the table between us - and talk.  That kindred spirit is still there.  She talks me out of bouts of depression when a job interview didn't come through.  We share information about employment links, companies that may or may not be hiring, ideas that we have, we laugh, I get to play with her beautiful, adorable little boy (I tell everybody I'm his Aunt Gigi), and we really give support to each other.  We don't talk everyday, in fact, we email more than we talk...but we're just an email, call, or text away.

My husband is my best friend and is absolutely the most awesome man and husband anybody could ask for but my BUDDY and I can talk about the details of everything from the world economy, celebrity hairstyles, parenting, challenges within our marriages, being unemployed and fighting depression while looking for work, to what the cat dragged up on the porch yesterday.

We all need to treasure our Buddy.  I hope everybody has one.  If you don't - I hope you find one.  That extra support makes all the difference in the world sometimes.  After a visit with my buddy I feel relaxed - like, it's gonna be alright.  We're gonna make it though this.  But most importantly - I'm not the only one going through this.


My husband asks me "How was your visit?"  "It was really great!" I tell him.  "It's always great to see her!."  "Well that's great honey." he says....then he walks away and continues on with whatever he was working on at the time.


After working for that company for 8 years, it wasn't all for nothing - I found a true friend.  I found my buddy.