First Communion Marks a Milestone in Young Son's Life

One of the most frustrating things about having your children grow up is that they tend to grow away from you as well. I had a really wonderful experience recently when I realized that as much as my oldest son, Ryan, is becoming an independent young man, he still needs me on occasion.

Ryan recently celebrated his first communion in our church during Easter week. He attended the classes and seemed very interested in the whole process, even asking me if he was really going to be given “real wine” to drink. I told him he’d get just a sip and that seemed to relieve his concern over the taste.

I took him to the preparatory classes, insisted he write out at least three questions for the pastor for the last class, and made sure the family knew he was taking his first communion even though most wouldn’t be able to come since it was a weeknight.

He was unusually subdued during the meal but I wasn’t worried about it since he went back up for more food twice. I assumed he wasn’t talking much because he was seated in between his grandmother who spent most of the time chatting with another church member.

The time finally arrived and Ryan moved to my end of the table since I was to pass him the bread and the chalice. The service started right there in the hall where we’d all eaten.

Imagine my surprise when I felt Ryan’s hand slip into mine under the table. I took a quick glance and saw his apprehension. Was he worried about dropping something as he passed it along? Was he still worried about how the wine would taste? Was he uncomfortable that the entire room of people would be watching him and his classmates?

I didn’t really care, I was just so happy to feel that little hand in mine. These days I’m barely allowed to touch him except for a good-night kiss and hug and I miss the days when he’d happily sit on my lap or snuggle with me. Those times are few and far between and are non-existent if anyone but family is within eye-sight.

I gave his hand a gentle squeeze, leaned over and whispered to him that everything was going to be fine. His face twitched a little but his expression didn’t change.

The communion went off without a hitch. Ryan hated the wine but he managed not to grimace. What makes me incredibly proud of Ryan – what sometimes leaves me in awe of him – is his willingness to try something, to do something despite being afraid or nervous. He will always try and that is something I think we lose as we grow older, opting instead for the relative safety of anonymity lest we mess it up and embarrass ourselves.

The highlight of his night was the cards and gifts he received. The highlight for me was sharing something meaningful with my son in the same church where I had my first communion. A very close second was the hand that slipped into mine, reminding me that Ryan still needs his mother.