There are moments in every child’s life when a parent, or a grandparent, can glimpse the adult that the child will become. I watch my grandson grow up, moment by moment, and I am blessed in this. He has a good heart, this boy, although, as his doctor says, he is a very normal 9 year old little boy.
Last year, when Maggie May had to be destroyed, he was a man.
Today, he was also a man, in a much less heartbreaking way.
In our church, during the Offertory, while the collection is being taken, the smaller children take their donations up to the altar themselves. They place their money in the basket and then Father hands them a little sermonette, mostly I think to keep them occupied during the Consecration. This has always been one of Moose’s favorite parts of Mass.
We were talking last week, he and I, about getting older and the duties and responsibilities this entails. He is currently in Sacraments class and will be making his Baptism, First Communion, and Confirmation the first week of May. I told him that after he made his Sacraments, he would no longer be a small child but would be an adult member of the Church.
I am never quite sure if he listens to me when I speak or if, in his mind, I sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher. You know, like this:
Then, this morning, when the Offertory came along, Moose’s mom handed him her collection money and whispered to him that she didn’t have any little money for him to take up. We usually give him a dollar. I overheard and fished a dollar out of my pocket and handed it to him. He handed it back to me and said, “No thanks, Grandma”. He stayed in his seat and, as the man of his family, put the donation in the basket.
He made me cry, he did. I only hope that most of the tears he causes me are as grateful and happy and proud as these were.