I got inspired by Joshie’s five languages of love for God post this Sunday. After the Eucharist, I followed his example of putting my hand on my stomach and my heart. I also want to try to put into words (since I'm verbose by nature) how profoundly grateful I am to be taking the Eucharist as a Catholic.
For a Methodist, Communion is grape juice passed along a silver tray in individual dime size cups and crumbled bite size pieces of bread from Kroger. The words of the Mass are the same "take this bread in memory of me" but the signs are just "symbolic." The bread is still bread, the grape juice (non-alcoholic as a tribute to teetotalers) is just juice. I felt more in touch with Jesus by praying on the alter rail after Communion than I ever did after taking a sip.
Now, as a Catholic, I am allowed to take the Eucharist, each Sunday. (And every day if I wish). All that's required is that I stay in a state of grace, go to confession regularly, search my conscious before each Mass, and take the body & blood as reverently as possible while holding the hands of a few squirmy children.
For these small, helpful sacrifices, I'm allowed to infuse Jesus into my body. I receive food for my journey.
I can't tell you how much that means to me. I don't have to have everything figured out on my life path. I don't have to be "in control" or to pace myself. I can get exhausted. I can become overextended. Whether it's a taxing pregnancy day or a hard visit with house guests, I know that each Sunday I can refresh myself with our Savior.
I'm so grateful that after 29 years of being a Christian, I finally came home to the sacrament of Eucharist in the Catholic Church.