Boys and Men

Off-topic post today, but something I don't want to forget: Yesterday, my son took communion for the first time in his life. Yes, he's only eight and a half months old, but my wife slipped him a little of her grape juice and he "partook" of the wine, so to speak. To me, communion is the most visceral and personal part of my church-going experience. It can mean whatever the participant wants it to mean, but for me, even one with shaky faith, it is the one opportunity to fathom a mystical, personal connection with Jesus. Whatever that means, I'm still not sure, and I guess that's a part of why on Sundays when the bread and the cup get passed, I always partake. Even when I doubt, I am sure that communion helps me connect.
A student of mine told me that his father died over the weekend. This news hit me very unexpectedly and I have been emotionally fragile today. Taking this news home with me as I played with my son on the family room floor, I often wondered what would happen if I ever lost my son or he lost me unexpectedly. I had to rush those thoughts out of my mind but that split second of clarity, of which I have occasionally, reminded me of life's true gift of time and experience. I'll always want more time to spend with my family, but I also have learned to enjoy every single second with my loved ones. Not to be morose but to be real; my son giggled with delight as I tickled him today. He threw his head back, squinted his eyes and laughed the laughter of a child who knows that he is safe and happy and in familiar hands. I grow older and wiser in the presence of my child and yet experience every gifted second because I know that it, too, is gone.