So we’re at morning Mass, and in the Communion line. I’m holding Ada’s right hand, and we get to the front. I kneel down to receive–this is a beautiful practice which is increasing at our parish–and Father gives me Holy Communion. I go to get up, and my left hand is pulled down…by little two year old Ada, who is on her knees as well. I give a gentle tug to get her to stand up, but she’s having none of that. She’s kneeling for her Jesus! And she starts walking off…on her knees…one tiny knee-step after the other. I could see her brother, who was holding the paten, trying not to laugh, and I heard the priest had to look down to stop from chuckling; I couldn’t bear to look up. I was able to get us enough out of the way for the next person to receive, and then she stood up to walk (only attempting to kneel-walk once more after that). But I thought to myself : You know, she gets it, and doesn’t even know she gets it. People go to the Scala Sancta in Rome and ascend it on their knees–these steps that Christ ascended to appear before Pontius Pilate–and here we are, actual human tabernacles, walking vessels containing the body of Christ, and we are often unaware of the grandeur we carry within ourselves as we walk away on foot. Obviously it would be….awkward, to put it mildly…for us all to process away on our knees after receiving Holy Communion. But our hearts should be prostrate, even when our bodies cannot be!

After Mass, once we can get Ada to stop gleefully galloping all over the (nearly empty) narthex, we go to the rectory so I can take care of a short bit of business. I end up chatting with the lovely parish secretaries. As we’re wrapping up, I hear this little scraping type noise.

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I turn around…and there is Ada, with a light blue crayon in her hand that is so small you can’t even see it, drawing circles…around, and around, and around on the white rectory wall. The wall had been Youngblooded. It wasn’t the first piece of Church property to be Youngblooded (she is the youngest of 9, after all), just the most recent. Now, her older sister was with me, but I think she was taken a little more with my conversation than with keeping an eye on her sister, and I can’t blame her. Neither of us knew she had a crayon, nor where she would have gotten it! As it turns out, her other older sister knew–she had found it in the pew at Mass. Oh Ada… There is never a dull moment with you, Sweetheart!