MELISSA:
NO’S DON’T HAVE
TO BE FOREVER

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this children and family mass is, “Melissa: No’s Don’t Have to be Forever.” *
I would like to tell you a story. It’s the story of a girl named Melissa.

THE STORY OF MELISSA

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Melissa.

And as everyone knows, the name “Melissa” means “Most Sweet” or better, “The Sweetest” and that she was.

She was a star. She was very bright. She was a princess.
She was an only child.

And Melissa loved being an only child. The only pictures on the refrigerator door were pictures of Melissa. The only pictures in her grandma and grandpa’s wallets were of Melissa – because Melissa’s mom and dad were also the only child.

Melissa was loved by neighbors and checkout counter ladies, teachers and classmates – because she was so outgoing – so talented – so cute – so smart.

She could dance. She could sing. She could play the piano. She got all stars in Kindergarten. She was able to catch a lacrosse ball already – when she and her dad went out to play on their front lawn. She was great in Monopoly already.

Her dad and her mom were so proud of her. Life couldn’t have been better.

Then one day Melissa felt an “Uh oh!” in her throat and her tummy.

She heard her mom talking to someone on the phone – and her mom said, “The baby will be due in August.”

“Uh oh,” she said again.

In her gut – without knowing why – Melissa started to become more and more quiet – the closer they got to August.

The baby was a baby brother – 8 pounds and 8 ounces. They were going to name him Jack, but they changed to name to Michael – because they thought that would make Melissa happy – she and her brother being called, “M and M.”

Her mom and dad felt super – her grandparents on both sides felt super – finally more than one child – and her parents thought it was great that Melissa would no longer be an only child. They never liked growing up as the only child – because people would say, “An only child is a spoiled child. They get everything.”

Well Melissa went into a shell – into a mood – into feeling sorry for herself – because nobody was noticing her. Nobody was giving her attention. All the action was with her baby brother Michael.

He was a prince and she no longer felt like a princess.

It was Michael this and Michael that. And the only pictures taken were pictures of Michael.

And a big, big baby picture of Michael went smack on the center of their refrigerator door.

People would stop her mom in the mall and ask to see the new baby. Nobody seemed to notice Melissa any more.

Teachers would say to Melissa, “Aren’t you lucky? You now have a baby brother.”

Melissa didn’t think so. Melissa didn’t like this new arrangement.

Melissa was cranky and moody at Michael’s baptism – in fact, she acted up a bit – and this annoyed her grandmother on her dad’s side.

Everyone drove back to Melissa’s house. There was to be a party in honor of the newly baptized baby Michael.

The priest who did the baptism was there – and he noticed how Melissa was hiding out – how alone Melissa seemed to be – how she was so sour in the face. So he went over to her and asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

And Melissa said, “No!” and ran away.

The priest felt an “Uh oh” in his tummy.

About five minutes later the priest was sitting there eating tiny hot dogs – wrapped in dough – smothered in great yellow mustard – talking with Melissa’s grandparents.

The priest felt someone tap him on the shoulder.

He turned. It was Melissa.

She said, “Okay, you can ask me a question.”

No’s don’t have to be forever.

The priest was surprised. He had to think backwards to remember what his question was. He thought and thought. Then he remembered.

Seeing how much Melissa had changed since her baby brother arrived, how she had become so quiet and moody, he was wondering if she was being jealous . He was wondering if it was because she was no longer getting all the attention. So the priest whispered in her ear so her grandparents wouldn’t hear, “Are you jealous of your new baby brother?”

And before he could say, “because he’s now getting all the attention and you think it’s not fair!” Melissa yelled out, “No!” and ran away again.

Five minutes later the priest was still sitting there. He was eating his fifth tiny hot dog wrapped in dough, smothered with great yellow mustard. Once more he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Once more it was Melissa.

She said, “Yes, I am a little bit jealous.”

No’s don’t have to be forever.

Then Melissa with her old sweet smile and her fingers going like this, [Gesture of her thumb and index finger slightly apart] added “but only a little bit jealous.”

Then she ran over and started tickling her baby brother and from that moment on, she became the bestest of older sisters.

[*Family Mass - especially kids - St. Mary's Church, Marian Hall, September 28, 2008, 26 Sunday Ordinary Time - Year A]