Over the course of several weeks, she and I had several conversations about why children are included in the Eucharistic feast. We talked about baptism as full membership. We talked about food as nourishment for the body, hugs and kisses as nourishment for the mind and soul and the Eucharist as nourishment for the spirit.

We talked about how Jesus had called little children to himself and how it is quite possible that young children understand more than we realize and actually come to God with a sense of awe that we have somehow lost as we matured.

Intellectually, the mother grasped what I had said; however, she was not yet convinced. The boy needed to understand if he was to receive. She continued to bring Jeffrey to the altar rail for a blessing.

Week after week, the little boy would extend his hand to receive the host, and week after week the mother would pull the boy’s hands back to his chest with a thump. But one Sunday, Jeffrey was not to be denied. He extended his hands. His mother pulled them back not once but three times -- thump, thump, thump!

And then it happened.

Jeffrey yelled at the top of his lungs, “Jesus, Jesus! I want Jesus! Give me Jesus!” and thrust his hands forward once again to receive the host.

I remember that moment like it was yesterday. The air throughout the church was filled with the Spirit. You could have heard a pin drop as we waited in awe. I looked at the mother; the mother looked at me and with a tear in her eye said, “OK.”
 
I barely choked out “The Body of Christ” as Jeffrey took Jesus into his hands and pronounced a loud “Amen” for all to hear. I looked up and down the altar rail, and I glanced around the nave. The church was filled with smiles and individuals dabbing their eyes with tissues. Jeffrey knelt in awe before Jesus that day, and we were each filled with awe as we searched our own hearts and shared his experience.

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