By Adriane Dorr
My pastor slapped me on my confirmation day. On the face. During church. H I G H E R
T H I N G S __ 26
I didn’t see it coming. After all, the last person you expect to haul off and smack you is your pastor.Your confirmation day is supposed to be special: a service, some “I do so intend with the help of God” stuff, a cake with too much frosting, and pictures. Quick, easy and painless. And there most certainly isn’t slapping involved. But there I was, standing in front of the church, my back to the congregation, wearing one of those goofy white robes with a gigantic red carnation on my shoulder. Embarrassing. I was a little out of my element. Plus, I had an audience. My whole family was there from grandmas to parents.The church was full. It was a big day. Nobody wanted to miss this. So there I stood, nervously yet piously folding my hands, rolling over in my mind all the agony I’d gone through to get here, especially the part where Pastor sat my parents
