We grew up in the church.

In those first years of the early 1960s my Mother would walk the mile or so to the Catholic Church in West Louisbourg, from our home on Main Street, with my brother and I in tow. The church in West Louisbourg was built in 1892. It was an ornate yet beautiful church that would come to an inglorious end by the close of the 60s.

A new church was built on Main Street, near the house we rented from Rachel Munroe, with its first mass in February of 1968.

At about the age of 9 we became altar boys at Stella Maris. And every few Sundays I would partner with Hector, Myles or with my brother serving mass for Father Gerald Power and later Father William Decourcy. We would serve mass in the morning before school for one week out of every 6. At times we would serve at funerals and weddings. But the best time of year serving was for midnight mass at Christmas.

It was uplifting - going to Stella Maris church for midnight mass. The seats full of people; the choir lead by Marion Urich singing like angels – radiant and beautiful. The priest - Father William Decourcy, a tail gunner out of the second World War, coordinating the whole affair.

It was a joyful occasion, with Father William joining in to sing. As altar boys we were a part of this performance: lighting the candles and taking care of the water and wine, then helping the priest with the serving of communion.

Getting ready for this performance was not easy. Midnight was well past our bedtime and we needed to get a few hours sleep before we departed for mass. Our family tree was lit up and decorated. Dad would keep the Christmas lights on until we returned. My Father was not a church goer, so he would not be going this night. My Mother would be going, seeing my brother and I on the altar dressed in our robes of black and white. I knew she would be proud. My Father would be as well. But he was more reticent in his feelings. 

Now, looking back, it feels like there was no better time to be alive, to feel the protective warmth of a family and of a church.

We would change into our robes in the vestry, excited about Christmas morning - the gifts under the tree foremost in our minds. The mass would be welcome work with friends. With Myles, the two Hectors, the two Dannys, Jack and the rest. Father Decourcy would enter. Every hair on his head in place. A former member of the Canadian Air Force he lead us like soldiers going into battle. There was an orderly set way of delivering the water and wine on the altar, and he expected the same from us.. “No talking in ranks.” He was a great guy and a good friend. The first to be sure we saw important parts of Cape Breton for the first time: the Cabot Trail, Miner’s Museum and then a trip off island to St. F. X University one year. When he talked in the church his voice was stern and direct and demanded immediate attention.

There were new parents in the congregation with the occasional crying baby that would be shushed by a parent. And sometimes a male parishioner with a little too much Christmas cheer could be heard loudly talking before being shushed by his wife. People streamed in, kneeling before a pew and shaking hands with the person that they moved next to with a quiet smile and a “Merry Christmas” delivered. Then when the priest and altar boys entered there was the noise of people rising from their seats; faces looking alert and focused on Father Decourcy.

The prayers would come and we’d listen to Father Decourcy enunciate every word with clarity. We’d have our refrains to say. The ‘also with yous’ and the ‘amens’.

Father Decourcy had come to Louisbourg to replace Father Power in 1971. Father Gerald Power, who was born in West Louisbourg, had lead the Stella Maris congregation from the church in West Louisbourg to the new church on the site of the old Dundonald Inn and across from Jim Steylen’s garage. The church in West Louisbourg was a beautiful old church that succumbed to Parks Canada’s desire to create a national historic park around the Fortress of Louisbourg. The new church was beautiful as well. Its modern architecture had arched timber stretching into the ceiling to support the roof. A simple cross had originally been set above the altar. When Father Decourcy came he had a figure of Christ set on the cross. The new church was more secular and uncomplicated and perhaps this was the way to go in a changing world.

The midnight mass would progress; there would be readings delivered by chosen parishioners and the priest. The whole event was enriching. Was it a feeling of God, or just being a part of a community? That feeling one gets of being with good people that can carry you over any obstacle in life - the warmth of Christmas descending.

And then the mass would end. The church would erupt with quiet conversations. The choir would continue on as people left their seats, mingled, and slowly filed out the back and side doors.

You wanted that mass to continue so the good feeling you had would continue. Back in the vestry Father Decourcy would tell us how proud he was of all of us. You said goodbye to your friends. Then my brother and I left the back of the church and ran for home over a common route up a snow covered hill. The snow had been gently falling all evening. At home we would see Dad sitting down on the couch, waiting, with a big ‘harumpph’ coming from him and a feigned stern look on his face as he took another puff from a cigarette.

Then Mom would come in the door looking smart; her head high. She wore a dress with a blazer and black winter boots. She looked happy. “ What a wonderful mass” she would say, as we proceeded to eat the sandwiches Dad prepared. We were all talking at once, and then off to bed.

As we drifted off into sleep in the early hours of Christmas morning, we could hear our parents talking in the living room. Their protection made our young lives complete.

Photos are from Bill and Helen O'shea's book Stella Maris Roman Catholic Church, Louisbourg.

http://www.krausehouse.ca/krause/FortressOfLouisbourgResearchWeb/BillOshea/stella-maris-by-william-and-helen-oshea-1993-optimized-3.pdf