Lamb of God,
You take away the sin of the world;
Have mercy on us.
Two versions of the Agnus Dei on Youtube:
One classic and impeccable.
One emotive, beautiful and controversial.
And a bonus: Me getting distracted on Youtube with The Choirboys.
I attended mass with my two children Wednesday at noon. I have so much to tell. First off, the children were eager to go to mass! I am grateful that I have had encouragement from so many other mamas and friends to 'be the iceberg' and follow my deep ocean currents despite the chaotic but shallow choppy waves. Six months ago, when I started going to mass regularly, the children were resistant. I think most of their resistance was fear of something new, fear of losing what they knew, and a response to my hesitancy. Three months ago, Big Sis might have said, "I hate mass and you can't make me go!". This weekend she said, "Mommie! Mass was BEAUtiful! You should have been there!" (on a day she went with Daddy)
We all grow.
During this mass, as with many of the early day masses at Sacred Heart, I was struck with the winter sun streaming in the great southern stain-glass windows. I have watched before as the red and purple lights pass in discreet spots across the sanctuary. But this day, something striking occurred. As the celebration of the Eucharist was completed, and parishoners knelt and sat in prayer after receiving Christ, a glowing purple light rested momentarily and perfectly over the circular Agnus Dei seal on the marble altar. In this church large enough to hold four hundred, filled with imagery on every wall, the one focus was the bland white of the altar, glowing with a merciful lamb.
It lasted perhaps 20 seconds, in complete silence. I turned away for a moment and was brought back to attention by the priest's prayer. The quiet event was over, passed on as unheralded as it began. I wonder if anyone else noticed. Myself, I wanted to leap up and run to the altar and yell, "Hey! LOOK!" But, I did not.
Minutes later, the mass was ended. The children went to the grotto to light a candle and ask St. Mary, the Mother of the Eucharist, to pray for them over their upcoming first communion. I spent some time in prayer. Perhaps I was in a moment of grace, after mass, having confessed privately, having said a Novena, and contemplating the Eucharist, the purple light and the Lamb of God. I was alone and my mind was at peace.
It was at that time when an overwhelming *knowing* struck me; I knew my friend G, who passed away some months ago and helped lead me into this path, was with me in prayer. I sensed it in all my being, not as a memory or a thought, nor as a physical event. I knew it in my heart, my gut. I felt something not with my typical emotional or physical senses, but with a spiritual knowing. As real and tangible as the computer screen before my eyes, I *saw* prayers being said by G with my spirit. I dont know how else to explain it. It was very powerful and I began to cry and struggle with tears. And again, these tears were not of mourning or loss, but of beauty and profundity of connection with God and the Angels and with a man I lost but who still prays for my family.
About two months ago, I had a similar dream. In this, however, the *knowing* was of a Magdalene love for Christ. In the dream, which was very real and tangible, I gave G a hug, typical of our goodbye hugs after coffee. He began to slip above me, leaving me releasing my hug on his body. Touching his legs with my hands, he drifted upward, pulled by some unseen force. As his body faded, another body, clear and strong took its place, slipped into my grasp by something I can only conceive of as God. I found myself sitting, poised at the bottom of the cross, embracing Christ's crucified and bloodied legs. Most profound was the solid and incarnate reality of angst and love, longing and reaching faith. It was as if I was experiencing this moment at the cross through Mary Magdalene's very being.
I woke up with the sentence, "G led me to Jesus." on my tongue.
He has not been the only one to hold my hand on this path. I have several very close friends who have been with me on this journey, and dozens of acquaintences who have prayed and cared.
But there is also a very super-human element guiding me. GRACE is real. So real you can slice it like cake. You can hold it in your hands and feel it in your emotions so strongly that it weighs you down.
Every single day, God speaks to all of us in unashamed, but quiet ways. Each time is like a miracle for me. It simply never gets old.
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