Sunday Mass this week ended with Benediction. (The congregation is blessed by a priest who is holding and elevating the Blessed Sacrament. More on this lovely rite here.) I happened to be in the church foyer, because Milo had gotten loud and squirmy in the Communion line, so after receiving I carried him right to the back.
While the Sacrament is exposed, we kneel. It’s understood, of course, that moms with squirmy toddlers can’t always do this, but I usually give it a shot. So I knelt on the carpet where we could see through the doors all the way down the aisle to the altar and held Milo and whispered in his ear, pointing: see the priest? see the altar? see the monstrance?
Another woman was already kneeling there, with a little girl about his age. The girl had flopped down on her belly and was rolling around on the carpet, but she was not bothering anyone, which is the important thing that allowed her mom to remain kneeling. Milo, entranced by the little girl, tore away from me and flopped down next to the little girl. They lay there on their bellies and grinned at each other.
I muttered under my breath, "Okay. Fine. Prostrate is good." I didn’t mean for anyone to hear me, but the little girl’s mother laughed.
I love Benediction. But solemn is just hard to do for longer than a few minutes with a two-year-old.
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