“It’s good to have him back home with us,” our Pastor said to me as he nodded toward my brother. I nodded affirmatively and smiled broadly, but only God and I really knew how deep and everlasting the joy in my heart was.
Do you know the feeling you have, the one that leads up to those extraordinary moments: The march to a sports championship, the process to landing the career you’ve always wanted, buying your first home or car. You work yourself into a frenzy with the longing, aching, hoping, wishing and maybe even praying that something good will finally come your way.
When it finally does happen, the happiness you feel is powerful and exhilarating, but mostly, it’s fleeting. You’re left with fond memories and great stories to tell, but that sort of euphoric feeling you initially had wanes and life goes on until another similar event happens and you experience that ‘rush’ all over again.
Can that sort of exceptional feeling of happiness continue for all time?
Yes it can. The answer came in an unlikely form. The Eucharist and my brother.
Separated by three years and a million other things, sometimes it seems we only share the bond of family. He’s older, smarter, outgoing and gregarious. And, compared to my road, my brother has had a particularly hard cross to bear on his. Some of it has been by his own choosing, some because that is what Christ has laid upon his shoulders.
One of my simple nightly prayers has been to ask God to bless him through it all. The bumps of life hit him through high school into adulthood, marriage, family, death of a child, separation, divorce, and death of our Dad. It seemed like the proverbial dark cloud had settled in and hovered over him. My prayers for him took on deeper, longer and more profound conversation with God.
Why did he do the things he did, make the choices he made, why was all this stuff happening to him, what made him pick that way to go, why couldn’t he see or hear or realize or pray or something, and just choose the right path?
I was stupid, and selfish. His road is his road and mine is mine, no matter how much I wanted him to do things my way. I needed to change my prayer for him, asking God for His will for my brother, not my will. God alone knew what he wanted of my brother and how to achieve it. So how could I help my brother desire God’s will? I made that my prayer to God.
When he seemed so very far away (having left the Catholic Church and sporadically attending Lutheran services), I should have realized that God had a hold on him through the power of the Holy Eucharist.
It was one of those (faith in) action verbs that I finally said to him one day. “COME home,” I urged. He sort of smirked and asked, “Come home, what does that even mean?” Little did he or I know or realize that our Pastor had been saying ‘put your faith in action,’ for years. I automatically answered, “It means come back to church.”
He gave me a million reasons why he couldn’t, or didn’t want to, but I kept saying it to him. Something clicked two years ago; he suddenly started to attend Sunday Mass with my Mom. The joy began. After that I suggested another (faith in) action verb to him. “ASK Father what you have to do to receive Holy Communion again.” More excuses followed, but somehow I knew God wanted him home. Earlier this spring, he finally asked. He sat down with our Pastor, gathered up the necessary forms, and told the story of the road he had traveled to wind up where he currently was at and how he could get back fully and receive the Eucharist.
We waited and prayed.
It was a Sunday, late morning, when I got home from the Mass I had attended. He had left me a message on my answering machine. “I wanted to tell you in person, but I can’t wait, I talked with Father after Mass, I have to go to confession, give a profession of faith, and I will be welcomed back as a full member of the Catholic Church and I can receive Holy Communion again.” Monday morning he met with Father and I surprised him by meeting him for daily Mass and saw him receive the Eucharist for the first time in about thirty years. It was and continues to be awesome, everlasting joy! My heart and soul rejoice every time I think of that moment. Joy is that exceptional happiness. The gift of our Lord, the Eucharist is indeed eternal. God’s will, the power of prayer and some faith in action can do marvelous things. I know it did for both my brother and for me.
