I am an EMHC and Honored to be One

I am an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion (EMHC).  I bring Holy Communion (Christ truly present in the consecrated Host) to Catholics who are homebound, hospitalized, in nursing homes, and in rehabilitation centers.  Most of my visits are to those who are homebound or living alone.

Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion is the proper term for people involved in this ministry.  We are NOT Eucharistic Ministers.  That term is often used mistakenly applied to those who are EMHCs.  The word “Eucharist” is never applied to this ministry.  That term is reserved for the priest alone (see Redemptionis Sacramentum and the USCCB FAQ on the document).

Nothing Better

I have been involved in many ministries over the years and have been an EMHC for 25 years.  For me, nothing can compare to being an EMHC.  It is all about Jesus, the person receiving Jesus, and me being the one who has brought them together.  It does not get any better than that.

I rarely miss a visit to my homebound friends.  As of this writing, I visit eight people every Sunday.  They all live alone and five of them are in their late 90s.  Honestly, it makes my day.  It makes their day too (and sometime their week).  Those that I visit hardly see anyone during the week except home-health aides and folks like that.

All I come with is a smile, a church bulletin, maybe a prayer card, and, of course their Lord and Savior.

I keep a special notebook in which I have compiled the names of all the people I have brought Holy Communion to over the years.  I want to share a few of these folks with you.

George

These are Catholics who have lived their lives to the best of their ability.  Many of them were children during the Great Depression and lived through World War II and into the 21^st century.  Like my friend, George B.

George was in the U.S. Navy and stationed in London in in 1940 during the Blitzkrieg.  He survived that, came home, and wound up at Pearl Harbor.  George was there on December 7, 1941, when the Japanese attacked.  He and a Marine corporal took charge of a .50 Caliber machine gun and shot down two Japanese Zeroes.  The two of them then proceeded to pull men out of the burning water near the USS Arizona.

George was an acrobat and, after the war, he joined a circus.  He performed with them for over 20 years.  He died several years ago at the age of 97.

I loved George’s stories.  He was like a walking history book.  He would get all animated when he was telling you about his adventures.

I brought him Communion every Sunday for more than two years.  When it was time for him to receive Our Lord, he would quiet down, get still, and just stare at the sacred Host as I gave it to him.  What an honor that was.

Anne

Anne S. was 92 and she would always be dressed in her Sunday “best” when I arrived.  And many times she would ask, “Why does God keep me here, Larry?”

“Anne,” I would say, “He needs prayer warriors.  That’s what you are, and that’s why you are here.  There are many souls in Purgatory.  They need your help.”

She would always smile and point to her Rosary and her prayer books on the table next to her.  She would look to them and say, “Yes, I know.  I do keep busy, and I am now a prayer warrior.”  Anne has been gone now for five years.

Scotty

I will also never forget my little pal, Scotty W.  He became a St. Jude baby because of a tumor on his brain stem.  He was diagnosed in 1977 when he was only two years old.

By age 25 Scotty was only 4 feet, 4 four inches tall.  He had started his own lawn service when he was about 17.  He would wear a big straw hat, and his nose would be just above the lawnmower handle as he pushed it along.  At the same time, he was studying for his GED.  He worked his tail off until his body turned against him.

Scotty and I became good friends, and he would come over to my house and tell silly jokes.   I would laugh like crazy, slap my leg, and jump up and down.  He knew I was doing it on purpose to make him feel good, but he would laugh so hard tears would be streaming down his face.  I brought him Communion every Sunday during the last two years of his life.  He died in 2002 when he was 27.  I still miss him – a lot.

Virginia

I have been seeing Virginia every Sunday for almost five years now.  Sunday, March 7, was her 99^th birthday.  She lives on the first floor of a senior independent living center.

On Sunday March 21, I arrived at the center around 10 a.m.  I went to the rear of the building to use the paging system, accessed her number and dialed, but there was no answer.  I kept hoping someone would leave so the doors would open, but no one came out.

Since she lived on the first floor, I walked around to her apartment window.  I was not sure if she was sleeping, had fallen, or, God forbid, worse.  I climbed around four-foot-high hedges to get to the window and began banging on it only to off an alarm system.

No one came so I finally gave up and left.

When I arrived home, I managed to get someone from the center’s management on the phone.  They could not give me any information.  I asked nicely, “Just cough if she is dead.”

“Sorry, sir,” was the reply.  “We will give your name and number to her son, who is her contact person.”

No one ever called.  I had the church office call twice, and the pastor himself called, to no avail.

On April 1, Holy Thursday, Virginia called the church office looking for me.  (She could not find my number.)  She had fallen and had been taken to the hospital.  They quarantined her for two weeks, and she had returned home on Wednesday, March 31.

I was finally able to visit Virginia again on Easter Sunday.  I brought her flowers and a Mass card for Easter and her birthday.  And when her 100^th birthday is celebrated next year I intend to be there.

A Rewarding Ministry

I have been blessed to part of this ministry.  Seven of the people I visited received Viaticum from me.  It was not planned that way – it just happened.  I pray for each of them all the time.  So far, my list includes over 40 people who have passed on, including my wives (my first wife died in 2003, and my second wife died in 2017).

I would suggest you look in to being part of the this ministry.  You get to leave the church accompanied by Jesus.  Then the two of you get to go visiting His homebound or hospitalized people.  It is a beautiful thing.