Personal story: Sunday mass
When my wife and I first started going to church regularly, we would usually leave our daughter with her grandma. That continued until a priest once advised us to try involve our daughter as well. We accepted the challenge, even though our daughter is quite energetic child.
Most Sundays it was quite hard keeping her calm and being focused on the mass at the same time. I started to question the point of taking a small child to mass. It seemed to only have caused the lack of focus for both of us and people around us.
Then something beautiful happened a few weeks ago. During the priest’s homily1 my daughter (and some other kids further away) were constantly making some noise. It was not catastrophic, the priest could still be heard easily, but it was enough to make you feel embarrassed. I also felt like I am being rude for not listening to what the priest was saying. Then, just as I was feeling guilty for not being focused on what the priest was saying, he said something I will never forget. He was talking about children in his homily and then concluded:
“…and as I am talking,every Sunday, I constantly hear cries and laughter of children within the church.”, as he gestures with his hand in my general direction, “But I don’t mind, praise the Lord that that’s the case, for the Church in which you cannot hear baby’s cry is a dead Church.”
Him saying that made me cry of joy. Honestly I was also a little stunned as to how haven’t I realized that sooner. As he was saying that the bright sunbeam through the blue tinted church window put my face into spotlight. He continued:
“…and those parents here with kids probably didn’t hear most of the things that were said here today, but it doesn’t matter. You are doing a far greater thing by being focused on your kids then being focused on me. I like that more.”
After he said that I was really freaked out for a second. That random beam of sunlight focused in my face’s direction and the priest seemingly reading my mind really felt unreal. Tears were running down my blue tinted face and it felt like I was being hugged.
Conclusion
You could call it a mere coincidence, but I won’t. That moment proved to me that God is around me and in me. It proved to me that he is listening and understanding. He is always ready to hold me up when I am about to fall.


Leave a reply to Lucija Jukić Cancel reply