Woulda Coulda Cana

Last weekend I was in Indianapolis visiting my fiance.  On the agenda was a little bit more than our typical make dinner at home/visit the Indianapolis Museum of Art/Rene's Bakery agenda.  Oh no, we had a date with the Catholic church for a Pre Cana weekend.

There are a few hoops to jump through in order to marry in the church.  Besides the typical baptism records, you also get to do a natural family planning class and an engaged encounter weekend.  However, in Indy the nearest retreat house is 4 hours away so they use the shortened version, Pre Cana, as its sub.  Think of it as premarital counseling via cliff notes.  My fiance and I began to wonder if we were cheating the system by doing the condensed version, so we sought counsel with Father Stan.  He said that if it counted good for them, who is he to say that it isn't. 

Sunday morning came and we actually made it to church.  I'm not a big fan of the newer movement.  The altar is more out into the audience and the pews have been rearranged to go around it in a semi-circle of sorts.  I think they wanted us to feel included more, but all I could think of was a run way at Fashion Week.  (I'm going to Hell for that one.)

Moving on, we took advantage of our small break and had brunch, but we were a bit late to the engaged couples meeting.  Surprisingly, it was a big crowd and we got to sit in the front row (only space left).  I made up for us being the disruption by calling further attention to us by winning the prize because I had traveled the furthest for the weekend.  It was a cheesy ring holder from the archdiociese.  And the instruction began!

We mingled a bit on cue with our couple next to us.  Allison and Jeff.  Met 2 years ago.  Getting married in May.  They are also socially stunted because they didn't ask us one question back.  The first volunteer couple instructors came forward to talk about Family of Origin.  I began to tune out because it was social work 101.  They went on and on about how holidays can be tough and divorced in-laws can be challenging.  No kidding.

The second session was on communication.  A new instructor couple emerged and literally handed out a worksheet entitled, "Rules for Fighting."  #1. No physical violence.  Ok, its just a sad statement when this really needs to be said, and I suppose, some inthe room probably needed to be reminded of it.  The one thing I can say I liked is that they did say it was ok for you to fight in front of your children as long as they also see you make up.  They handed out another "fun" sheet for a "date" night that listed things like, favorite number, favorite color, favorite meal, etc.  Then I got down to, "favorite position."  I stopped and whispered to my fiance, "Aren't we NOT supposed to know this yet?"  He smiled and whispered back, "I know mine.  Full back."  Trying to keep my giggles quiet was a challenge.

After the break, the NFP class was next.  A young couple came in and began a fairly persuasive presentation on this.  The fire and brimstone was left behind and only small amounts emerged in their "testimony" of sorts.  On some level it made sense, that is a medical healthy perspective.  The debate of when life began was touched upon, but not drilled.  It was rather nice.  They also made an argument about how it brought  closer communication and intimacy.  Ok, really, this made sense if your morning dialogue included things like basal temp, mucus viscosity, and potential breast tenderness.  "Good morning, honey, how did you sleep?  I dreamed I was flying and by the way my temp is 98.9 and the fluid resembles egg whites."  Ooh, sexy.  I'm certain that kind of talk will really encourage some hot heavy mornin' lovin'!  All joking aside, they did also say that couples who practice this method have a less than 2% divorce rate.  Whether this is true or not, I'm not certain.

The last class was taught by Father Kevin.  He was a roly poly man who waddled in, adjusted his glasses, and immediately announced UConn's upset.  I liked him already.  He began to talk about God's grace in marriage.  He was married before becoming a priest.  His wife, Carol, died to ovarian cancer.  He told stories of the intimate moments.  The happy moments, the sad moments, the anger moments...all of them devine moments.  He was witty, genuine, and was literally the highlight of the day.

Many people dread this requirement of the Catholic church.  I'm just thinking they didn't have the right location.