Communing HadrianThe seven-year-old downed his third tiny glass of grape juice and licked the last drop from the bottom, oblivious of the perfect purple ring around his lips. Perhaps it was his eager grin as he went for the fourth glass that prompted three women to spring into action. The older woman, horrified with what the boy was doing, let out a mild shriek and reached out to stop him as his mother stepped between innocence and offence. She knelt down and spoke kindly to her son. Meanwhile, the third woman, who saw the incident unfold, turned her attention to her elder and moved into her line of sight.

“Millie,” she said, smiling. “It’s okay. It’s o-kay. I know how you feel. The communion elements are sacred, but to him, they are just little glasses of grape juice.”

Within minutes Millie was calm again, the mother relieved, the boy unaware a crime had been committed, and my friend, who interceded, was satisfied.

When she told me what happened, I could easily imagine it all taking place–especially since the boy was my grandson, Hadrian, and his mother, my daughter, Heidi.

As I thought about the incident, I saw how each player reflected God’s character. I loved my grandson’s delight in finding wonderful gifts laid out for him. Like a mother hen with her chicks, my daughter protected her son from wrath and, like Jesus, she got down on his level to enlarge his understanding. The older woman was passionate to preserve the sacredness of the Lord’s Supper, which had been given at great cost. Meanwhile, the peacemaker saw the pure intentions in all three hearts and, like the Spirit, brought reconciliation to her community.

At first, what stood out for me in this story was the way Heidi was with Hadrian. I love how God comes between me and the critical voices and protects my child-like desire to savour every drop of life.

But later, I saw myself in Millie. It’s humbling to think that God has had to intervene between me and the recipients of my criticism. Yet, I also see God smiling at me the way my friend smiled at Millie, inviting me to be gentle with myself.

As you envision this story with God, I wonder what you see.

Joy is measurable by Funky bug

“I’ve told you these things for a purpose: that my joy might be your joy, and your joy wholly mature. This is my command: Love one another the way I loved you.”
  John 15:11 (The Message)

Photos  of “Communing Hadrian” by Heidi Braacx. Used with permission.
“Joy Is Measurable” by Funkybug. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2015.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013, 2014, 2015.

About Esther Hizsa

Esther is a spiritual director and writer. She lives in Burnaby with her husband, Fred, and they have two grown children and two grandchildren.
This entry was posted in Childhood, Ignatian Spirituality, Popular Posts, Prayer, Stories and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Communion

  1. Dave Small says:

    Thanks for the great story and practical application.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ted Martens says:

    Hi Esther , At our home group tonight we studied the parable of the wheat and the weeds ( tares , darnel, ) One of the thoughts we focused on was to choose to be less judgemental of those especially in the church body lest we be pulling out not what we think to be weeds but rather good plants . (Math. 13 ) your little story of communion reactions fit in quite perfectly . Thankyou so much for your insights. Gods blessings on your new venture whatever it may be . Hope to see you in Feb when we come out to get our grandchildren fix. Linda Martens

    Liked by 1 person

    • Esther Hizsa says:

      Thanks for sharing your thoughts and blessings, Linda. Love God’s timing. Fred and I are taking a 3 month break from NL so i can get used to the change from pastor to congregant. Perhaps I will see you at Easter.


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