... and getting choked up.
At our church, my wife and I serve as Eucharistic Ministers, as described here. Nearly every time I do it, something happens that chokes me up. I always intend to blog about it, but because our Sundays are usually full of things to do, I don't make it to the keyboard until Monday morning and by then I've forgotten. I'll try to do better in the future as these tiny anecdotes are such a big part of Catholic life.
Yesterday, I was giving out the Blood of Christ. An elderly couple who had sat directly behind us and greeted us with great affection came to take the chalice from my hand. Their hands were shaking with palsy so badly that I was worried they might spill the wine all over the floor. When they got to me, they held hands and in that warm and loving grasp, they damped the shaking of their bodies so they might drink.
I'm sure that the remainder of the people who took the cup from me wondered why I had tears in my eyes. It was as lovely a thing as you might hope to see, a snapshot from years of holding each others' hands. It might have started when they were bashful, pure-hearted lovers in grade school and continued through the joys and trials of a life together to arrive at the point where I got to witness it in a fleeting moment before the altar.