A couple of weeks ago, my oldest son, Noah, who is in the third grade, was showing us around his classroom and showing some of his work during the open house at Christ the King School.
The event is a scene you'd pretty much expect: tons of LOUD kids, dazed, tired parents (it was in the evening, so most looked haggard from work), and scurrying about with shouts of "look at this, look at this."
In the midst of this, Noah showed us an assignment that he had completed for the big event. The piece of paper had several panels, each with a headline, like, "Favorite Food," "Most Important Event in My Life, So Far," etc. In each panel, he had drawn his personal answer to the headlined.
Under "My Hero" he had drawn a picture of me. I have not been able to discuss this since that evening. Looking at that drawing, all the hubbub was quieted, and I was left the most humble person at that school.
How many times have I known I am not his hero and should not be any hero? But I can tell you, I have never been more committed to earning the honor he has already given me: His Hero.
Showing posts with label Christ the King. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christ the King. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Touching Scenes
This week has brought to me several moments of being touched by the Spirit, and I want to set one of them here.
The first was this past Sunday, March 9, 2008 at my parish church, Christ the King. As we move closer to Easter, the group of those converting to Catholicism move closer to joining the Church. There is, every year, a nice-sized group becoming members the Church from our parish, and this year is no different.
When I scan the faces of those who are nearing their full membership into the faith I hold, I am so moved. They each have a story to share, I know. Each journey is special, no doubt.
However, one person I saw stood out to me, an old man. As he walked to the front to recieve a blessing from our parish priest, I wondered what his story is, and why, this late in his life, he has been drawn to the Catholic Church.
What an example for me this man is, I thought. Learning, yearning and bringing himself to a deeper understanding of faith and to a more meaningful experience and life in the love of Christ, at any age, in any time. His act of presenting himself before the Church inspires me.
That glance at him in a crowded church sanctuary, reminded me: Someone is looking at my face; may they be inspired toward God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit by what they see.
This I pray.
The first was this past Sunday, March 9, 2008 at my parish church, Christ the King. As we move closer to Easter, the group of those converting to Catholicism move closer to joining the Church. There is, every year, a nice-sized group becoming members the Church from our parish, and this year is no different.
When I scan the faces of those who are nearing their full membership into the faith I hold, I am so moved. They each have a story to share, I know. Each journey is special, no doubt.
However, one person I saw stood out to me, an old man. As he walked to the front to recieve a blessing from our parish priest, I wondered what his story is, and why, this late in his life, he has been drawn to the Catholic Church.
What an example for me this man is, I thought. Learning, yearning and bringing himself to a deeper understanding of faith and to a more meaningful experience and life in the love of Christ, at any age, in any time. His act of presenting himself before the Church inspires me.
That glance at him in a crowded church sanctuary, reminded me: Someone is looking at my face; may they be inspired toward God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit by what they see.
This I pray.
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