I knew last week that this Sunday would be the one where Grace's parents would be bringing her to see the church I attend, and experience her first Catholic mass. I thought it was pretty nice of them, considering they were not practicing Catholic's, to let Grace attend, as it was one of the items on her ever growing bucket list. Although Grace was not raised with religion being a major part of her life, she seemed to be very knowledgeable about God, and his plan for eternal life for those who were willing to let him in. We talked about God and Heaven a lot, and in many contexts. She seems to be just as eager as I am, to know as much as she can about her journey on earth, leading her to a journey in Heaven.
I visited Father Tom at our parish a couple days prior to Sunday, letting him know I had invited my friend and her parents to Sunday mass. I informed him that although they were all baptized in a Catholic church, they are not practicing Catholic's on a regular basis. He invited me to reserve a pew behind the one I occupy on Sunday mornings. Now, I will tell you this fact, and you will laugh I am sure, because where most people arrive early to mass to gain a nice distant back pew, far from the alter, I choose to arrive early to gain access to the front pew, as close to the alter as I can be, without actually being part of it. I have always sat in the first pew for as long as I have come to this church, which has been about five years now. It has proven to be the perfect setting for me for when I bring my nephews and niece to mass with me. It allows them to see what is going on, and it was easy to convince them that God was looking dead on at us, so we should pay attention and be as quiet as possible. It seems to work, or maybe it does not, but I find comfort in the front pew. Always have, always will.
Today I brought my nephews with me, Jimmy (Lil Dude) and Channing (Baby C). Lil Dude comes to church with me a lot, and when he does not come with me, our family friends The Fultons take him to their church. Baby C just sits in his seat carrier, chewing on his teething ring, looking up at the ceiling. Lil Dude likes to go up and say hi to Father Tom before service starts. He totally believes that Father Tom's daddy is God. And he thinks that is very cool. Once I over heard him ask Father Tom "Oh well how is your daddy doing today?" It's cute, and it's memorable, so I let him keep believing, after all, isn't God father to all of us? Lil Dude also is a hit with the older ladies in the church, stopping to talk to all of them on the way up to the front pew. If one happens to be missing someone that is usually with them, he will ask them "oh where is your husband today?" or "is your daughter sick today?". He usually scores some sort of treat for his backpack, or a few coins, which he always takes to the alter to put in the child's collection basket.
We sat up front in the usual pew, listening to the choir practice songs for today's mass. I was a bit worried when mass was 15 minutes from beginning that Grace and her parents were not yet here. Shortly after this worry, I spotted them as they entered into the pew I had reserved for them. We traded greetings, and Grace and I stuck out our pinkies, just as if I were visiting her on a Wednesday when she was receiving her cancer treatments. It brought smiles to both of our faces. Lil Dude went back to her pew and hugged her to say hello, as he did with her parents. There is no such thing as a stranger to Lil Dude, he has many friends in this little church. I asked Grace if she would like to sit up front, in my pew, with me. She declined, assuring me she was OK sitting behind us, where she could watch what happens during a mass.
Prior to mass starting, Father Tom asked me if I could handle the left wing man job of administering wine to those wishing to partake in it during communion. I was OK with that, with Lil Dude watching his brother and Grace's parents sitting right behind them. Grace thought it was funny that we drink wine at church. I assured her she would understand more, after she listened to that part of the mass where Father Tom would bless the body and blood of Christ.
I was a surprised to see Grace stand up and walk out of her pew, towards the alter, with the other children. I watched as she stood and looked at the alter, taking in the routine of the other children that were dropping their coins into the basket. I noticed she was dressed up, in a new dress no doubt, with nice shiny dress shoes, and of course, a spring time hat sitting on her head. So tiny, so thin, so pale, so fragile looking. As she climbed the two small steps that would lead her to the alter, where she could deposit her gift, she turned back and looked at her parents, then she looked at me. I thought she seemed scared, which was surprising considering the amount of time we talked about God. I had to force myself to remember, she is eight, and she probably is a little scared of the unknown. She gently knelt in front of the basket before the alter and dropped a dollar inside of it. She bowed her head as if she were greeting the spirit of God. What felt to me like a lifetime, but in reality was a few moments, allowed me to notice an almost awkward silence in the church that was holding almost 150 individuals. After a few more moments of Grace kneeling near the alter with her head bowed down, her father stood and approached Grace, joining her. He reached down and took her hand, and she stood. As she turned around to come back to sit, I noticed the tears, not just rolling down Grace's cheeks, but also her fathers.
They returned to their pew, and as they sat down, with many teary eyes on them, Grace took her pinky finger and extended her tiny hand towards me. I reached back, pinky extended, and we hugged pinky fingers, as we always do. Without a word being said, and with tears being shed, my little angel on earth and myself touched heaven together from earth, with a clear understanding that very soon we would be pinky swearing together, in spirit, as brother and sister under God's watchful eye.
Father had given us our final blessing, ending mass for this week. The final hymn was sung, and my church family members were filing out of church. We stayed behind, me and my back pew neighbors, to share a short visit. Father had joined us and after introductions we had a nice visit. He was so tender when he spoke with Grace and she could not express to him enough how she enjoyed being in his church today. He was kind enough to offer her a tour of the alter and have her ask him any questions she might have. Jimmy joined them as the rest of us sat back and watched as they approached the alter, working it from left to right, with Grace touching many things to her that I was sure she found beautiful, and asking questions as fast as Father could answer them.
After the alter tour was completed and they had joined the rest of us back in the pews, Grace hugged me and thanked me for inviting her to my church. She sat next to me and grabbed my hand, saying nothing, just sitting next to me and looking around the church from the pew we shared. She leaned her head against me, and when I looked down to see her, she was looking up at me. So often the best conversations between Grace and I were the ones where we remained silent, but shared each others thoughts through our eyes.
"Grace", I said, "I can read your eyes today and I see a lot of happiness, a lot of sadness, and a little bit of what looks like you may be confused about something. Is there a question you would like to ask?"
"Can you see God, Jett? In my eyes? Is he inside of me?" she asked.
"God is in our hearts Grace. He is with us always. Every step of the way. Each day, each hour, every second. He is the beat in our hearts. When I look in your eyes, I see faith. That is what tells me you have let God inside your heart. You are not alone. You will never be alone."
She smiles and squeezes my hand, which has become symbolic between us, as a gentle hug that travels through our entire bodies, comforting each other at a moments notice. "Jett?", she says quietly, "I am not afraid. I cried today as a prayed to God because I do not want you to be afraid. I was thanking God for letting us be friends before I leave." This is total Grace, preparing those of us on earth for the day she moves her life's journey to heaven. "I thank God each day for leading me to you too Grace, I cannot remember a day when I did not know you."
I do not know if Grace is afraid to die. I do not know if she is truthful with me about her fears in leaving her friends and family behind. I do not know if she fully understands all she has yet to face here on earth. I do know that Grace is spending a lot of time trying to gain knowledge of everything that is me. My friends, my family, my aspiring career in journalism. She leaves no stone unturned as we spend more and more time together when it comes to finding out what makes me tick. For every question I have for her, she has two for me. For every hug I have for her, she has many more for me. I spent the better part of my evening at Grace's house after she invited me to spend the rest of my Sunday with her at her home. We played board games, we read books, we made cookie's, we sat out in the fresh evening air. We laughed, we cried, we talked, we walked, we played, we watched TV. We lived. We lived. We lived. We will live until the day Grace heads out to complete her journey to heaven. Eternal life ... We live. We die. We live forever.
For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.
--William Penn
I visited Father Tom at our parish a couple days prior to Sunday, letting him know I had invited my friend and her parents to Sunday mass. I informed him that although they were all baptized in a Catholic church, they are not practicing Catholic's on a regular basis. He invited me to reserve a pew behind the one I occupy on Sunday mornings. Now, I will tell you this fact, and you will laugh I am sure, because where most people arrive early to mass to gain a nice distant back pew, far from the alter, I choose to arrive early to gain access to the front pew, as close to the alter as I can be, without actually being part of it. I have always sat in the first pew for as long as I have come to this church, which has been about five years now. It has proven to be the perfect setting for me for when I bring my nephews and niece to mass with me. It allows them to see what is going on, and it was easy to convince them that God was looking dead on at us, so we should pay attention and be as quiet as possible. It seems to work, or maybe it does not, but I find comfort in the front pew. Always have, always will.
Today I brought my nephews with me, Jimmy (Lil Dude) and Channing (Baby C). Lil Dude comes to church with me a lot, and when he does not come with me, our family friends The Fultons take him to their church. Baby C just sits in his seat carrier, chewing on his teething ring, looking up at the ceiling. Lil Dude likes to go up and say hi to Father Tom before service starts. He totally believes that Father Tom's daddy is God. And he thinks that is very cool. Once I over heard him ask Father Tom "Oh well how is your daddy doing today?" It's cute, and it's memorable, so I let him keep believing, after all, isn't God father to all of us? Lil Dude also is a hit with the older ladies in the church, stopping to talk to all of them on the way up to the front pew. If one happens to be missing someone that is usually with them, he will ask them "oh where is your husband today?" or "is your daughter sick today?". He usually scores some sort of treat for his backpack, or a few coins, which he always takes to the alter to put in the child's collection basket.
We sat up front in the usual pew, listening to the choir practice songs for today's mass. I was a bit worried when mass was 15 minutes from beginning that Grace and her parents were not yet here. Shortly after this worry, I spotted them as they entered into the pew I had reserved for them. We traded greetings, and Grace and I stuck out our pinkies, just as if I were visiting her on a Wednesday when she was receiving her cancer treatments. It brought smiles to both of our faces. Lil Dude went back to her pew and hugged her to say hello, as he did with her parents. There is no such thing as a stranger to Lil Dude, he has many friends in this little church. I asked Grace if she would like to sit up front, in my pew, with me. She declined, assuring me she was OK sitting behind us, where she could watch what happens during a mass.
Prior to mass starting, Father Tom asked me if I could handle the left wing man job of administering wine to those wishing to partake in it during communion. I was OK with that, with Lil Dude watching his brother and Grace's parents sitting right behind them. Grace thought it was funny that we drink wine at church. I assured her she would understand more, after she listened to that part of the mass where Father Tom would bless the body and blood of Christ.
I was a surprised to see Grace stand up and walk out of her pew, towards the alter, with the other children. I watched as she stood and looked at the alter, taking in the routine of the other children that were dropping their coins into the basket. I noticed she was dressed up, in a new dress no doubt, with nice shiny dress shoes, and of course, a spring time hat sitting on her head. So tiny, so thin, so pale, so fragile looking. As she climbed the two small steps that would lead her to the alter, where she could deposit her gift, she turned back and looked at her parents, then she looked at me. I thought she seemed scared, which was surprising considering the amount of time we talked about God. I had to force myself to remember, she is eight, and she probably is a little scared of the unknown. She gently knelt in front of the basket before the alter and dropped a dollar inside of it. She bowed her head as if she were greeting the spirit of God. What felt to me like a lifetime, but in reality was a few moments, allowed me to notice an almost awkward silence in the church that was holding almost 150 individuals. After a few more moments of Grace kneeling near the alter with her head bowed down, her father stood and approached Grace, joining her. He reached down and took her hand, and she stood. As she turned around to come back to sit, I noticed the tears, not just rolling down Grace's cheeks, but also her fathers.
They returned to their pew, and as they sat down, with many teary eyes on them, Grace took her pinky finger and extended her tiny hand towards me. I reached back, pinky extended, and we hugged pinky fingers, as we always do. Without a word being said, and with tears being shed, my little angel on earth and myself touched heaven together from earth, with a clear understanding that very soon we would be pinky swearing together, in spirit, as brother and sister under God's watchful eye.
Father had given us our final blessing, ending mass for this week. The final hymn was sung, and my church family members were filing out of church. We stayed behind, me and my back pew neighbors, to share a short visit. Father had joined us and after introductions we had a nice visit. He was so tender when he spoke with Grace and she could not express to him enough how she enjoyed being in his church today. He was kind enough to offer her a tour of the alter and have her ask him any questions she might have. Jimmy joined them as the rest of us sat back and watched as they approached the alter, working it from left to right, with Grace touching many things to her that I was sure she found beautiful, and asking questions as fast as Father could answer them.
After the alter tour was completed and they had joined the rest of us back in the pews, Grace hugged me and thanked me for inviting her to my church. She sat next to me and grabbed my hand, saying nothing, just sitting next to me and looking around the church from the pew we shared. She leaned her head against me, and when I looked down to see her, she was looking up at me. So often the best conversations between Grace and I were the ones where we remained silent, but shared each others thoughts through our eyes.
"Grace", I said, "I can read your eyes today and I see a lot of happiness, a lot of sadness, and a little bit of what looks like you may be confused about something. Is there a question you would like to ask?"
"Can you see God, Jett? In my eyes? Is he inside of me?" she asked.
"God is in our hearts Grace. He is with us always. Every step of the way. Each day, each hour, every second. He is the beat in our hearts. When I look in your eyes, I see faith. That is what tells me you have let God inside your heart. You are not alone. You will never be alone."
She smiles and squeezes my hand, which has become symbolic between us, as a gentle hug that travels through our entire bodies, comforting each other at a moments notice. "Jett?", she says quietly, "I am not afraid. I cried today as a prayed to God because I do not want you to be afraid. I was thanking God for letting us be friends before I leave." This is total Grace, preparing those of us on earth for the day she moves her life's journey to heaven. "I thank God each day for leading me to you too Grace, I cannot remember a day when I did not know you."
I do not know if Grace is afraid to die. I do not know if she is truthful with me about her fears in leaving her friends and family behind. I do not know if she fully understands all she has yet to face here on earth. I do know that Grace is spending a lot of time trying to gain knowledge of everything that is me. My friends, my family, my aspiring career in journalism. She leaves no stone unturned as we spend more and more time together when it comes to finding out what makes me tick. For every question I have for her, she has two for me. For every hug I have for her, she has many more for me. I spent the better part of my evening at Grace's house after she invited me to spend the rest of my Sunday with her at her home. We played board games, we read books, we made cookie's, we sat out in the fresh evening air. We laughed, we cried, we talked, we walked, we played, we watched TV. We lived. We lived. We lived. We will live until the day Grace heads out to complete her journey to heaven. Eternal life ... We live. We die. We live forever.
For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.
--William Penn
