Running Into His Arms


I remember, before 9/11 and security changes at the airports, flying into airports to meet my boyfriend.  He would be waiting for me at the gate (occasionally the other way around), and there would be that nervous anticipation, that giddiness, that longing for the flight to *finally* be over.

And then it would be.  And our eyes would meet each other across the gate.  And I would leap into his arms.

Oh, yes.  We were *that* couple.  It was lovely.

This morning, I woke up and was going to bring some medication to a friend who was in the hospital.  As I looked at how much time I had to get to the hospital and then to work, I thought that I might have enough time to stop by our church.  Then, I’d be able to bring her the Eucharist, too.

And who wouldn’t want to receive the Eucharist?!?!

The more I thought about it, the more I was like, “Yes!  Yes-yes-yes!”  And I was looking forward to those few precious minutes while driving to the hospital, where I would have Jesus in the Eucharist in my hands in my own personal, tiny tabernacle.

It’s only about 2 miles from my house to church — roughly.  For the first mile, I was recalling those feelings of anticipation and longing from those airport reunions.  I couldn’t wait to see Him and be with Him.  And I was so excited to bring Him to my friend.  During the second mile, I thought about how amazing it was that soon I would be holding Him in my hand.  To be able to pour my heart out to Him, and have Him right there.

And, of course, I’m all about sharing.  And I most wanted to share this with one of my best friends.  Because he would understand.  After all, he holds Him in his hands every day when he celebrates Mass.  I prayed that today my friend would feel that same overwhelming anticipation and joy at spending time with our Lord.

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