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That time we had to nail Jesus back to the cross

9 Oct

Those words came out of my mouth the other day.  I can’t even remember how this popped into my head, this memory from the dawning time of our marriage (which was many many moons and children ago.)

But yeah, there I was, meeting a new group of women and the words “We had to nail Jesus back to the cross once” popped out of my mouth.

You say stuff like that, and it requires an explanation.

We’re Catholic, right?  The husband is a convert (as is his whole family) while I am of Irish and Italian descent – Catholicism isn’t just a religion, it’s cultural.  As is the whole love of a good superstition.

Anyhoo, for our wedding, my mother-in-law got us a crucifix for our tiny apartment.  I was happy, as I didn’t have one for the apartment, and just always like one up by the front door (again, superstitious, did I mention I watch too many ghost story shows?  Yeah, so I think it’s sort of good luck to have it up there, like the crucifix is going to keep away any bad juju trying to get through my door – and now I’m totally mixing metaphors.)

So we hang the crucifix on the wall, where it stays for several months in its unassuming fashion, until one day, I think coinciding with the front door slamming shut, the crucifix falls off the wall.

I go and pick it up, to put it back on the wall…and that’s when I realize Jesus is swinging off the cross.

I am slightly horrified.

Now, He’s still attached to the cross by his feet, which somehow makes it all worse.  He’s dangling, upside down, by his feet, to the crucifix.

But all the nails are still there.

That’s when we realize that to fix this, we’re going to have to nail Jesus back to the cross.

With tiny nails

Through each palm.

I could have glued Jesus back to the cross, blue tacked Him, even duct taped Him (though that would be pushing it as well.)  – but NAIL Him to the cross?

I couldn’t do it.

Instead, I stood off to the side as Josh took the hammer and nailed Jesus back to the cross, making all sorts of distressing noises while saying “I can’t believe we’re doing this” while Josh answered with things like “Well it’s better than leaving Him hanging upside down by His feet!”

True.

Josh did a good job – Jesus has stayed on the cross since then.

I’m not sure this was the best story to throw at people unannounced while still in the “getting to know you” process.  Oh well, they might as well get to know the real me right from the start.

At least I didn’t discuss poop.

No crucifixes were harmed in the writing of this story

No crucifixes were harmed in the writing of this story

 

 

psst….if you haven’t seen, I’m up for this “Top 100 Bloggers” thing at Babble.com – to vote, click here and share with a button or leave a comment – thanks!

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6 Responses to “That time we had to nail Jesus back to the cross”

  1. Joy M Newcom October 9, 2013 at 1:58 pm #

    Brilliant. I love that you simply let the story speak for itself.

  2. franhunne4u October 9, 2013 at 2:08 pm #

    To be honest – I think it’s funny … I bought a cartoon postcard, showing a deacon, unwrapping a cross and a Jesus-figurine with the caption: Deavon Miller was not so convinced anymore that it was a good idea, buying a crucifix from IKEA. I like improper humour like that, at least YOU had scrupels …

  3. Amanda October 9, 2013 at 2:21 pm #

    “It’s better than leaving him upside down” made me hurt myself I laughed so hard.

  4. Anna October 9, 2013 at 3:46 pm #

    My Family is Catholic (Irish) so I am in stitches over here and can only Imagine your story being told with an Irish Brogue. The Day’s highlight for sure.

  5. Betsy October 9, 2013 at 6:05 pm #

    Omg! I love this story. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I was raised Catholic. Thanks for the laugh! 🙂

  6. Ginny October 10, 2013 at 8:06 am #

    I too am Irish and Italian Catholic. It is both my faith and my culture. Over the years, as my grandparents, parents and my uncle the priest, went on to be with Jesus, They left behind more than a few crucifixes among their possessions.

    But the startling thing is, as my mother pointed out more than one, we can’t seem to keep Jesus on the cross! I have ended up attaching, nailing, glueing, affixing Him back occasionally. The worse was the one where the arms had broken midway, so His hands were hanging there. Though I don’t believe it, there was a voice in the back of my head that whispers ” I am so going to pay for this!” Sigh…

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