At Mass today, just moments before Holy Communion, Ramona whispered, "I have to go to the bathroom."
I whispered back, "Can you hold it just a couple more minutes? Just 'til after we go up for Communion?"
I was thinking that since we were in the fourth row, I'd receive very soon and then we could head to the bathroom without missing the pinnacle of my day.
Ramona solemnly nodded.
And so, with the Body of Christ in my mouth and my daughter's hand in mine, we headed up the aisle, down the stairs and into the tiny bathroom of our 125-year-old church. There, instead of praying my favorite post-Communion prayer, the Anima Christi:
Soul of Christ, sanctify me
Body of Christ, save me
Blood of Christ, inebriate me
Water from Christ's side, wash me
Passion of Christ, strengthen me
O good Jesus, hear me
Within Thy wounds hide me
Suffer me not to be separated from Thee
From the malignant enemy defend me
At the hour of my death call me
And bid me come to Thee
That with thy saints I may praise Thee
Forever and ever.
I listened to Ramona chatter about how cold the toilet seat was, and wasn't it nice to sit by Grandma Mary today, and what does that sign say? Does that say there's a diaper table in the other bathroom? ("Yes, sweetie, a diaper-changing table,") and, oh, wow, that water is cold, too. Why is that water so cold? Let's go sit down. And you can warm me up.
And that's what we did. We made our way back upstairs (passing, on our way, a teenage girl slipping out the side door ... sigh ....), back to our pew and we knelt together for the few seconds that were left of my post-Communion prayer time.
I had missed saying my Anima Christi, but I knew something vital:
The soul of Christ is sanctifying me. Every day. Little by little, one bathroom and one chatter session at a time.
The soul of Christ: through my children and my vocation.