Catholic Review From His Hands

Earlier this summer, our younger son was invited to become an extraordinary minister of Holy Communion.

It hadn’t occurred to me that that opportunity might arise so soon—or really at all. But now that our teen is confirmed, he found that he had the chance. He thought about it and then decided to volunteer to help distribute Communion.

I was so proud to see him take that step with our faith. Lectoring at Mass was important to my own growth as a teen. I love seeing how we are each called in different ways. This step is just part of his journey.

The day of his first Mass in the role arrived, and I told him I would try to receive Communion from him. As the Mass continued, however, it occurred to me that moving around the church to receive the Eucharist from him might be challenging. It’s a large church. Would he be difficult to spot? Would I be able to slip past lines of people who were patiently waiting to receive the Eucharist?

But when the ministers moved into place, I saw he was right on our aisle. This would be easy.

As we inched forward, I watched him lift each host and place it into people’s hands. I was in awe that our son is so grown up. Somehow this child who used to wriggle his way through Mass can be entrusted to handle such a valuable transaction, placing the Body of Christ into the hands of people seeking Jesus.

His brother received from him right before I did, and so when I stepped forward and stretched out my hands, he was smiling.

“Body of Christ,” he said.

“Amen,” I answered.

How many times have I said that in my life? How many times have I received the Eucharist in my hands and then on my tongue and taken Jesus into myself?

But this time was different. This time I received this incredible gift Jesus gave to us all from the hands of my son.

You give and give and give to your children throughout their lives. You feed them, and you comfort them, and you guide them, and you love them more than they will ever know. And then in an instant, they’re practically grown, and they’re presenting you with Jesus.

I walked back to my pew to pray, and I cried—because it was all so beautiful. I couldn’t get my mind around the joy of seeing my child living out his faith in this way. And I was so moved that I had received Jesus from his hands.

Being a mother has helped me grow in my faith in ways I never could have anticipated. It has opened my eyes to understand and more fully appreciate God’s love for me. And this was such a tangible moment, reminding me that I might be trying to guide my children toward God, but—whether or not they realize it—they are also guiding me toward him.