It feels AMAZING when I do this regularly. Oh, how sad it is that I so easily I forget the joy this brings! How tempted I am to think that these events are ordinary and won't affect me much. But how wrong that thought is!
I give credit to my son for taking me to mass this morning. I say this because he rose very early, and--just before mass was to begin--he cried until I picked him up, then clamored over my shoulders to look out the window, his little blue eyes focused intently on the church with a wry little smile on his face.
When I asked him if it was daily mass that he wanted, he jumped and smiled and made gleeful sounds that were impossible to deny.
And yet, I did.
Surely he has no idea what I'm talking about. Surely it was a coincidence that he pushed to look out the window and then looked at the church and then smiled and squealed when I asked him.
I doubted. And I returned him to the floor to play with his toys. He's a baby, after all. Right?
But he cried again. I scooped him up, he clamored over my shoulders, nearly pressed his face on the window this time, and looked at the church.
I asked him again. And he replied to me in exactly the same way.
"Oh ye of little faith," I could imagine God saying, and I quickly threw on yesterday's clothes and dashed out the door with a happy, giggly Liam in my hands. Clearly, there is no limit on how God will reach down to me, and this includes teaching me through my little baby boy!
* * *
Sometimes I get a piece of the priest's large host when I go up to receive communion, and it happened today. When this happens, especially on Sundays when there are tons of people present, I feel so blessed, so fortunate. I know that this oddly-shaped, broken piece is no more and no less the Body of Christ than the other, perfectly circular hosts in the paten, but yet somehow I feel extra special when I am given it, as if God wants me to take special notice of Him and this Gift He gives.
During mass, I felt a twinge of sadness, remembering how long it's been since I've gone to confession and truly apologized to God for the many ways I've neglected Him and others that I love. Normally, this means that I should have channeled that energy into catching the priest after mass and asking him to hear my confession. But I decided to skip it because, well, I had a wiggly baby in my hands and there was a diaper to change and breakfast to be had. Excuses, excuses.
But God was so merciful to me today. He brought our parish priest right over to me after mass. Father walked through the crowd of daily mass-goers and came directly to me, scooped up Liam with great joy, and readily accepted my request for confession as if he knew it was coming.
Thank you, Jesus, for your mercy and love!