Some Eucharistic Thoughts

Since Nelson was sick, he did not make it to church Sunday. Mackenzie stayed home too. Because I am a Eucharistic Minister, I was able to bring communion to him.

In all my years as a Eucharistic Minister, I think I have only done this one other time. I was very mindful of this fact and just a little bit nervous about doing so. I wanted to make sure I did it right.

After mass I picked up my pix with Jesus inside. I followed suit with another minister and kissed the pix before placing it in my coat. What a truly awesome gift it was – to carry Jesus in my pocket.

I thought of young Tarcisus who protected Jesus in the Eucharist at only 9 years old. I didn't think that I'd be attacked by an angry mob, but I was worried that I'd lose Him somewhere. I kept my hand in my pocket as much as possible. My heart pounded when I would place my hand there and not feel it right away. I was very aware of His presence and I wished somehow that I could carry Him that close to me always.

When I finally arrived home, I almost didn't want to offer Him to Nelson. I felt so incredibly close to Him. I knew that it would be wrong not to keep Him so I went into the living room where Nelson and Mackenzie were laying on the couch.

They listened as I read the readings and we said a few prayers together ending with the Lamb of God. As I prepared to give the Eucharist to Nelson, he knelt down and Mackenzie knelt next to him. I think she actually believed that she might receive communion too.

"Not yet Mackenzie," I said to her as she looked at me with expectant eyes.

She fell back and sighed, "Oh man!"

"You know Mackenzie," Nelson offered, "you'll be making your first communion about this time next year."

"You know Dad, next year is a VERY LONG time from now," she quickly retorted.

The brief exchange made an impression on me. I thought about how the boys react similarly when I bring them to daily mass. Each time we walk in the communion line, they look at me and the priest very disappointedly when all they receive is the sign of the cross on their heads.

"I want a blessing!" Dawson always says loudly after I receive the Eucharist. "I want to drink that!" he cries as I receive the Precious Blood.

What I originally felt as I held back my crying two year old was pure embarrassment. Why did he have to be the loudest at the quietest time? But lately, and especially after my experience Sunday, I have changed my mind.

The way my children react is how we all should feel about receiving Jesus in the Eucharist. If we truly believe what we say we do, why shouldn't we yearn for it with all of our heart? Shouldn't we slump over in disappointment when we have to wait a long time for it? Shouldn't we reach out for it expectantly?

There are times when I receive communion like that. There are times when I am so in tune with what is happening that I physically shake, get a lump in my throat and have to hold back tears. I wish I could say that about every time I go to communion. Unfortunately, I am often distracted by tiny things like a two year old reaching out for the host and a three year old who is wandering off ahead of me.

Not my kids though. They are totally focused on the task at hand. They approach the altar with great anticipation that today will be the day they are able to FINALLY receive Jesus.

I hope they always feel that way. I hope I do too.