The privilege of going to church

I'm able to make it to church every other week now. Right after chemo, I'm too nauseated and fatigued. It makes me appreciate going to mass more than ever. I miss weekly Eucharist and I miss my church friends.

Yesterday was my day to go to mass. I arrived in my pink scarf, a sign, a person with cancer who made it out of the house. I saw many people I haven't seen in months. One of our number, a woman in her eighties had injured herself in a fall and had a long rehabilitation. It was so good to see her. I had been afraid that for her this would be the fall that disabled her for life. Thank God it wasn't. Another woman had also been out for months with health problems. She was back. There were a couple of women behind me in the pew that I didn't recognize so I introduced myself. They were an adult daughter from Seattle and her mother from out of state. The mother noticed me as one of the afflicted and asked how I was doing. It turns out that she had fought a similar battle against breast cancer ten years ago and she is now fine. She asked me to repeat my name and told me that she would pray for me and that she really meant it. We talked about how important it is for us to have people praying for us. She said that she could feel the prayers of those who had prayed for her. I can't feel prayers but my heart knows that friends, family, and even strangers are praying for me giving me courage and hope.

The mass proceeds from Liturgy of the Word to Liturgy of the Eucharist. We pray the Eucharistic Prayer and we sing the communion procession song of the day. I walk forward realizing how privileged I am to receive Jesus. I eat the bread and drink the wine that are His Very Self. I go back to my pew and reflect on how Jesus is coursing through my body and that everyone in that communion procession is receiving Jesus as well. We are truly the Body of Christ and we are meant to be transformed.

How does Christ being infused in me transform me? What does it mean for my life? As a person with cancer it means that my cancer is not just about me. It is about my friends, family, co-workers, fellow parishioners, doctors, nurses, technicians, receptionists, and phlebotomists. All are affected by my diagnosis and all need love. I know that I can't take care of everyone's feelings; that's not my job. I need to be a calm presence when I can and receive the love and care of others when I can't, when I need someone to be a calm presence. I need to be transformed by Christ.