...I was visiting some young relatives. We had agreed to meet at the 6pm Mass. Trains were tricky and I had to rush by cab from the station. Mass was already under way. A modern church, well filled and with one of those glass doors, slightly embarrassing when you are arriving late and people are standing at the back...
But up by the sanctuary was a sight to make Auntie suddenly go gulpy...two small beloved figures, solemnly handing over the Offertory gifts for the holy Sacrifice...my great-nephews...doing it all beautifully and then returning to the rest of the family, wriggling baby sister and all, in the pew...
Moments like that can't be discussed or noted within the family...part of the gulpiness is the very ordinariness of it. Just family. At Mass. On a rainy evening.
Deo gratias.
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I know what you mean. I'm still so proud of my seven year old son as he is able to recite all the parts of the Mass. We once had the privilege of bringing up the gifts together. I don't remember if he had turned seven yet, but he was so careful bringing up the container full of hosts. He understood the holiness of it all.
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