Because of rule 12, I'm not going to dwell on the fact that all of my babies are now beyond the age of reason, which really means that none of them are babies anymore and that my arms have been empty of baby for quite a while.
Instead, I'm going to think about Charlie's amazing ten-year-old friend Jack. Yesterday, when Charlie told him that he would be making his First Confession today, Jack enthusiastically responded, "Confession is awesome!" Jack is Charlie's surrogate big brother, and Charlie looks up to him in every way. Today I will be thankful for the influential witness of Jack.
I'm going to remember the bounce in Charlie's step as he left the house this morning and the way he said, "I have been waiting for this day for soooo long." He believes with all of his heart in the merciful love of Jesus, and he was ready to meet Him and have his soul made new. Today I will be thankful for the beautiful, innocent faith of my Charlie.
I'm going to picture the serious face of my sweet Jacinta waiting in line, she who is so shy and stumbles over words so easily. A few weeks ago I couldn't imagine that she would ever feel brave or strong enough to walk into that confessional...or what she would remember to say once she was in there. We had practiced and practiced and practiced the words for months, and yet even this morning as we practiced once again, she had to be prompted to say, "Bless me, Father...." But there she was, standing in line, worried but standing nonetheless, and then walking bravely into that dark, little room behind the curtain. Today I will be thankful for the incredible courage of my Jacinta.
I'm going to laugh again at the memory of Charlie proudly telling me afterwards that "Qiu Qiu did a great job on her Act of Contrition." Our parish has the old-fashioned confessionals, where the priest sits in the middle and a penitent kneels on both sides of him. Charlie was behind Jacinta in line and therefore in the other confessional waiting for his turn when she was confessing. I gently reminded him that we are not supposed to listen to the other person's confession, and he adamantly told me that he had his fingers in his ears but he could still hear her. (And this is why we only go to confession at our parish when we think no one else will be there and we can leave one side empty. :) Today I will be thankful for the gift of laughter and the pride of a little brother.
I'm going to imagine the day, less than two months from now, when we will all walk forward to the communion rail as a family to receive our precious Lord...and no one will be left behind in the pew. It's a day that has come too soon for me but not soon enough for those two little buddies always waiting in the pew. Today I will be thankful for our unity in faith and our journey together toward Heaven.
Oh, how I loved my babies when they were still babies. Life was so simple and sweet, and I felt so much more competent and capable. I didn't want it to ever end. But today I will be thankful for what I have now, right now, and walk forward in faith, believing that we are still just beginning the journey.
2 comments:
So sweet. I feel the same with Zachary,my last, making his First Communion this year. It is a wonderful feeling and yet sad at the same time.
I always thought it would be cool to be the priest who heard First Confessions. How sweet and nervous their confessions must be...I pinched my brother, I pinched my sister oh and I pinched my favorite cousin really hard.
Well. I'm bawling.
What gifts your children are. Thank you so very much for sharing this story-- definitely one for the books (er, blogs).
Love love.
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