Does Jesus Talk to You?

Or is it a nebulous thought passing through your mind?

“Welcome Back,” the Voice said.

I closed my eyes and smiled, hugging the moment to myself. That welcome had been for me, and I would not share it. One never knows how someone would react if I told them Jesus spoke to me, so no, I would not share my moment.

Two years ago, an old injury reared its ugly head, and my confounded back would not allow me to sit for an hour. And kneeling was out! I’d struggle to get up and hated the sympathetic looks and offers of help.

I’d found a wonderful priest and church online in Boston, and on Sunday mornings, I’d spend a Happy Hour with Father John, along with 1500 other people calling in. That says it all. The man is unique.

But something was missing — the Eucharist. I firmly believe in transubstantiation, and the Act of Spiritual Communion didn’t do it for me.

We were in Upstate New York the past two summers and starved for the Eucharist, I went to the tiny local church. Somehow, the pews and kneelers did not agree with me. My back flared up, and I gave up. Father John would have to do.

But back home, after more X-rays and MRIs, my pain specialist injected “snake oil” into a different spot in my back. The relief came within an hour. Cautiously optimistic, I waited and prayed, and the improvement stayed.

I decided to attend my church and picked January 1st, a Holy Day of Obligation, when we celebrate The Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, and Mary’s status as the Mother of God.

As I drive to church, my mind is in The Tower of “Babble.” Items on my to-do list scramble over each other, jostling for priority.

It’s wash day. I must vacuum and mop the kitchen and entrance. The library books are due. I must return the shoes I bought. I must do some weeding in the garden. Some plants need to be moved. My energy must be used sparingly, as I don’t have that much, and if I overdo it, that pain will visit me.

So, for the first time in two years, I entered my church, dipped my fingers into the holy water in the stoup, and crossed myself. An otherworldly calm wrapped itself around me. Humming softly, I walked to my usual place near the cantor and sank to my knees, grateful that it was possible.

I’d been away so long. This was like a cool drink of water after laboring in the garden. Special.

When the Liturgy of the Eucharist starts, I listen to each word as if it’s my first time hearing it. The priest consecrates the bread, and then the wine and the little bell tinkle thrice with each consecration. I kneel with my head bowed, the reality of what I am experiencing flowing through me, leaving me breathless and in awe.

I am at peace. I am content.

I go to receive the bread and wine. And as I swallow my sip of wine, a Voice says –

“Welcome back.”

I hug those words.

Mass over, I carry them out the door and back home, where I start my to-do list, smiling and humming.