The Time I Accidentally Called Heaven “Make Believe” in Front of My Very Catholic Mother

Growing up in a big family means game night can get… competitive.

I’m one of nine kids, so when we played games around the table, things tended to get loud, chaotic, and occasionally a little questionable in terms of strategy.

At one point we were all sitting around the table playing Catch Phrase—the kind of game where you have to describe something quickly while the little timer ticks down and everyone else yells suggestions.

If you’ve ever played, you know the goal is speed, not deep theological accuracy.

Now, a little context before we continue.

My mom is very Catholic.

Not casually Catholic.

I mean runs-the-church Catholic.

Probably has a direct line to the Big guy Catholic.

The kind where we went to Catholic school, volunteered at church constantly, and any time my mom signed up to help with something… we were “voluntold” we’d be helping too.

Church wasn’t just something we attended.

It was practically a family lifestyle.

So there we are, all sitting around the table.

My best friend/sister is across from me—the sibling where you can have an entire conversation using nothing but eye contact.

You know the one.

Anyway, the favorite child gets the Catch Phrase device and reads the clue.

Her description?

“The make-believe place people go when they die.”

Without missing a beat, I yell:

“All Dogs Go to Heaven!”

The timer buzzes.

Correct.

Point for our team.

But from the other side of the table, my mother suddenly shouts:

“WHAT?”

And in that moment I realized two things.

First—technically speaking—I had answered correctly.

Second—my mother had very strong opinions about referring to heaven as “the make-believe place people go when they die.”

But here’s the funny part.

By the time my siblings and I were teenagers and old enough to go to church on our own, we had developed our own… system.

We would get dressed.

Leave the house.

Head toward church.

And then somehow end up wandering around the local Target instead.

Now before you judge us too harshly, we were still very strategic about it.

We always made sure to be back just before church let out.

That way Father would see us.

And if our mom ever asked if we were there, he could honestly say he saw us at church.

Technically speaking… not a lie.

And to this day, my mother has never known.

Although if she ever reads this blog, I suppose she will.

Which means I should probably prepare myself for another shout from across the table.

“WHAT?”